Crazy Little Thing Called Love
by Dessie
Summary: Five friends reflect on love, life, and the state of their socks, as two of their number grow to realise that sometimes friendship just isn't enough.... MWPP era. SBRL slash.
1. Peter

**Disclaimer:** All belongs to JK Rowling, I'm just having some fun in her world for a while.

**A/N:** Well, I wasn't going to put this story back up here, mainly due to guilt over taking it down in the first place, but I suppose there's no harm in it. :) Thank you to everyone who reviewed the first time round, every review meant a lot to me (even the ones that left me flooded with guilt), and please don't feel you have to review again!

**Peter**

  
_This thing called love, I just can't handle it  
This thing called love, I must get round to it  
I ain't ready  
Crazy little thing called love_

Strangely enough, Peter was the first to notice. Strange because, as Peter would be the first to admit, he'd never been that observant. Of course, he didn't need to be the first to admit it as plenty of other people would admit it for him. Strange, too, because he didn't spend as much time with Sirius as any of the others did, though that may have been an advantage. He had been in France for two weeks just before the Potters' wedding, and so hadn't seen Sirius for about a month when he Apparated into James' flat that morning.

The groom was sitting at the kitchen table, looking rather green around the gills as he clutched a large mug of tea.

'I'm getting married this morning,' he said, looking up at Peter through bloodshot eyes. 'I'm getting tied down at the age of 20.' He took a large gulp of tea. 'I'm _getting married_.'

'You said that already,' said Remus, who was leaning against the worktop, looking amused. 'You're marrying Lily, remember?'

'Lily,' James said wistfully, staring at the depths of his mug. 'I love Lily. She's so beautiful. And intelligent. And beautiful. She's got red hair, you know,' he confided with pride.

'Yes, James, she's very beautiful,' said Peter, smiling in what he hoped was a reassuring way. He leaned over to Remus and hissed, 'Is he _drunk_?'

'No,' said Remus, now definitely trying not to laugh. 'He was a bit tense when we arrived this morning, so Sirius decided to do a Sedatus Charm on him. I think he overdid it a bit.'

'Sedatus Charm. Isn't that the one which makes you relax?' Together they looked back at James, who was humming contently and tracing patterns on the tabletop with some spilled tea. 'Ah. Where is Sirius anyway?'

Remus grinned. 'Guess.'

Peter thought...then grinned back. 'Fixing his hair?'

Remus gasped in mock surprise. 'How on earth did you know that? Anyway, he should be done in another hour or so.'

'I heard that,' said Sirius' voice from the doorway. He entered the room and walked over to clasp Peter's hand.

'Wormtail! Great to have you back. How are you? I haven't seen you in ages. How are you feeling? How was France? Did you have fun?'

'It was...fine, thanks,' Peter said, rather surprised at this unusual display of affection. He raised an eyebrow at Remus, who shrugged, and might have commented had James not chosen that moment to get up from the table and throw himself on Sirius.

'I love you, Padfoot, do you know that? You're my best friend. One of my best friends. And my best man! So you're like my best best friend. And I love you.' A thought seemed to occur to him. 'Not like I love Lily. That's a different kind of love.'

'That's..._good_ to know, Prongs.' Sirius looked round at the other two and sighed. 'Time to sober him up?' They shrugged in response.

'But I'm not drunk...' said a puzzled James. Sirius ignored him and pulled out his wand.

'_Finite Incantatum_!'

James blinked a few times, shook his head as though clearing it, then strode over to Sirius and hit him hard on the back of the head.

'Ow! What did you do that for!'

'You moron, Padfoot! Can you imagine what Lily would have done to me if I'd turned up at the wedding in that state?' All four men stopped and shuddered for a minute at the thought of the wrath of Lily Evans, soon to be Potter.

'All right, point taken. You didn't have to hit me though.' It looked as though Remus recognised that Sirius was spoiling for a fight, as he quickly interjected, saying, 'Have you two seen the time? You're still not dressed, James.'

James glanced at the clock, swore, and practically flew out of the kitchen, Sirius quick on his tails. Remus made to follow but Peter held him back.

'What's wrong with Sirius?' he asked. Remus raised an eyebrow.

'Nothing, as far as I know.'

Peter snorted. 'Come on! He looks a bit glum for today, doesn't he? And what was all that stuff when he saw me? I think that's the most words he's ever said to me at one time. I thought that since you live with him, you might know what's going on.'

'I hadn't really noticed anything,' said Remus, looking thoughtful. 'I imagine that he just feels a bit strange about the whole thing, the wedding and everything. I mean, he and James have been best friends for so long, even though he's happy for them, it's got to be weird for him.'

'I suppose so...'

'Just you watch, he'll be fine tomorrow.' Remus clapped Peter on the shoulder and strode out of the room. Peter watched him go, unconvinced. _Since when does Sirius mess up basic charms, anyway_?

The rest of the day passed as such occasions tend to do. The groom conquered his nerves in time to say his vows coherently, the bride was agreed by everyone to be both beautiful and radiant (and if anyone noticed the slight shakiness in her voice they kept it to themselves), and if the best man seemed to be a little out of sorts, no one except Peter seemed to notice.

Unaccustomed to Muggle ceremonies, and feeling uncomfortable in the unfamiliar clothes, he spent most of the ceremony observing what was going on around him. To start with, there was a clear divide between the Muggles and the wizards in the room; quite apart from the obvious fact that most of the wizards looked like children playing dress-up (apart from those who had just not bothered with the Muggle dress code, and were attracting rather strange looks from the other side of the church), the wizards all had sombre, wistful, or apprehensive expressions on their faces, or a mixture of all three. Peter knew what Lily and James were trying to do, getting married so young, having a large, public ceremony, and inviting all of Lily's Muggle relatives, but he was still not convinced of the wisdom of this decision. They were trying to make some sort of statement, but a small ceremony with only immediate family and close friends would have been a great deal safer. For everyone.

Taking advantage of the fact that, as usual, no one was paying any attention to him, he observed a great deal throughout the service. Like Lily's sister who, despite her parents sitting next to her and wearing identical expressions of pride and love, was looking decidedly bitter, and indeed was watching James with an expression of deepest loathing. Carol Harper, who had always been rather taken with James, was looking as though she was at a funeral as opposed to a wedding, though the boyfriend sitting next to her was sporting a huge grin. James' mother was crying openly with happiness and James' father was looking as though he was only stopping himself from doing the same with extreme difficulty. An old uncle, who was fast asleep in the back row, started snoring ever so slightly during the signing of the register. Remus, sat next to Peter, looked much the same as he ever did. (Peter thought he heard him sniff at one point, but he must have imagined it). The bride and groom themselves both looked very nervous and very happy.

And the best man...well, perhaps only someone who'd shared a dormitory with him for seven years would notice, but something was definitely wrong with the best man. He covered it well for most of the ceremony, but during moments when he must have thought no one was watching, he would suddenly lapse into an expression of deepest gloom.

Peter grew more and more puzzled by Sirius' behaviour as the day went on. After the ceremony they all decamped to a local hotel for the reception, another Muggle tradition Peter wasn't familiar with. Sat on the high table, Peter had less opportunity to observe Sirius directly, but an event soon occurred that made up for that. Apparently at Muggle weddings, it was traditional for the best man to make a speech. It appeared that no one had informed Sirius of this fact, but he was willing to give it a go anyway, a fact that didn't surprise Peter in the slightest. _Show off_, he thought idly as Sirius got to his feet, paused for a second, and began.

'I first met James when I was eleven years old, and in severe trouble with my cousin Bella...'

Ten minutes later, Peter sat dumbstruck at the table whilst everyone else scraped back their chairs and disappeared to the dance floor.

_What the hell had all that been about?_ What was all that stuff about 'friendship being the most important thing in the world, ever, and if you couldn't rely on your friends, who could you rely on', and so forth... Admirable sentiments, true, but surely not terribly relevant to the occasion? And he had sounded as though he was about to burst into tears when talking about how 'love could be agony, but when you love someone who loves you back, it must be so beautiful...' And what on _earth_ was all that stuff about socks?

Peter was quite sure he wasn't imagining it now. There was definitely something up with Sirius, and, despite his earlier lack of success, he was going to get someone to listen to him.

Knowing he would have little opportunity to speak to James or Lily today (which was a pity, if anyone would listen to him it would be Lily), he decided to try his luck with Remus again. He seized his opportunity as soon as he left the dining room, finding Remus standing at the side of the dance floor, a glass in his hand, watching the dancing couples. Peter knew very little about Muggle music, but the upbeat song playing at the moment was certainly filling the floor. Even Peter himself, under no illusions as to his dancing ability, was having difficulty stopping himself from tapping his feet.

'They look very happy, don't they?' he offered as way of a greeting.

Remus looked around, startled – he obviously hadn't seen Peter come up – then smiled. 'James and Lily? They really do.'

They stood in silence for a moment, watching the bride and groom make their way around the floor, then Remus spoke again.

'Do you think they're doing the right thing? Settling down so early.'

The question took Peter by surprise, but he had no hesitation in saying 'yes' immediately.

'They're James and Lily,' he expanded. 'If anyone can do it...I mean he's been in love with her since he was about twelve.'

Remus smiled, a far away look on his face. 'Remember when she finally agreed to meet him in Hogsmeade, in seventh year? It took us five days just to get him to shut up about it.'

'And when she agreed to marry him, of course. I still don't think he's come down from that.'

'True. I have to say, if anyone had told me in fifth year that we'd one day be standing and reminiscing at their wedding, I'd have said they were mad.'

Peter laughed. 'Do you remember the time she told him she'd rather go out with the Giant Squid?'

'Actually I don't. When was that?'

'It was in fifth year, I think,' said Peter. 'Yeah, it must have been, as we'd just finished an exam. Defence, I think it was.'

A slight frown appeared on Remus' face, but he said lightly, 'That's right, I'd forgotten that.' Peter decided it was an apt time to change the subject.

'What did you think of Padfoot's speech?'

Remus laughed. 'Interesting, certainly. But quite amusing.'

'You didn't think it was a little...odd?'

Remus gave him a questioning look. 'Not really. It must have been difficult for him,' – he lowered his voice – 'trying not to mention Hogwarts or anything that the Muggles might pick up on. Apart from that I thought it was fine. Why?'

'Well, it's just that...' Peter hesitated, unable to put his feelings into words. _What exactly_ was _wrong with the speech?_ He tried again. 'Does Sirius really not seem to be behaving strangely to you?'

Remus sighed. 'I'm not saying you're wrong. But Sirius' life is his own business. It might just be Order stuff, or it might be his job – they're working him pretty hard at the moment.'

'I suppose...'

'Or,' said Remus, beginning to grin, 'it could be the most simple thing of all. He could be in love again. Remember when he fell head over heels for Alistair Turner? He certainly wasn't acting like himself then.' As he spoke, the music changed to a slower, gentler song, and many of the people dancing left the floor.

_I may not always love you,  
But as long as there are stars above you,  
You never need to doubt it..._

James and Lily were one of the few couples still left on the dance floor, and as Peter watched Lily laugh at something her new husband said, his attention was caught by an odd sight. Sirius was on the opposite side of the room, sitting in a chair with arms folded and glaring fiercely at the bride and groom. Looking back and forth between the two, a germ of an idea began to form in Peter's head. _But it couldn't be true. Could it?_

'I like this song,' said Remus, apropos of nothing in particular.

_...God only knows what I'd be without you..._

'Yes,' said Peter absently, not really listening. He was vaguely aware of Remus leaving a few minutes later but Peter stayed where he was, transfixed by the enormity of his idea. _What if it_ was _true?_

A few hours later, having availed himself of several glasses of champagne and spent a significant amount of time observing Sirius, Peter had almost convinced himself that he was right. The bad mood, the speech, the overly friendly greeting...it all added up, and though Peter may not have been that observant, or, let's face it, that great at exams, he was not stupid. He was perfectly capable of putting two and two together and coming up with, if not four, then a fairly reasonable approximation. The only problem was what to do about it? The ideal solution would have been to talk to Lily, but she had disappeared somewhere; James, on the other hand, was heading in Peter's direction. It may have had something to do with the champagne, but Peter decided that the best plan was to grab James, drag him into a corner, and explain his idea.

James looked slightly taken aback at being manhandled in this fashion, but having had a respectable quantity of champagne himself, he seemed willing to hear Peter out. Hesitantly at first, then gaining in confidence, Peter explained how he had been watching Sirius all day, and (with thanks to Remus) had come up with the only possible explanation for his behaviour; Sirius was in love with James.

James exploded with laughter; then, seeing Peter's face, his own expression turned to one of anger.

'Tell me you're not serious.'

'I'm perfectly serious. Do you have a better explanation?'

'Explanation for what? There's nothing that needs explaining!'

'Well I think there is. Why does he keep glaring at the two of you? What was all that stuff in his speech?'

'What nonsense, Peter. I don't believe a word of it.'

'But...'

'Now really, that's enough.' James said, with just a hint of warning in his voice. He waved at Lily, who was weaving her way through the crowds towards them, then turned back to Peter and lowered his voice. 'Sirius has got enough on his plate – come to that, we all have – without you making stupid accusations.' Ignoring (or perhaps not seeing) the sullen expression on Peter's face, James kissed his wife as she came up to them, and pulled her back to the dance floor, leaving Peter alone in the corner.

_I know I'm right_, he thought sulkily. _Why won't they listen to me?_


	2. James

**James**

_This thing called love, it cries (like a baby)  
In a cradle all night  
It swings, it jives  
It shakes all over like a jellyfish  
I kinda like it  
Crazy little thing called love_

Under normal circumstances, James would have been the first to notice that there was something up with his best friend. Unfortunately, these were not normal circumstances; what with his job, Order business, and a wedding to prepare, he hadn't exactly been spending all his time observing Sirius' behaviour. And if he had been behaving oddly – well, that _was_ normal behaviour for Sirius.

He had dismissed Peter at the wedding (in fact, it occurred to him that he really ought to apologise, he'd been rather hard on his friend), but when he had returned from honeymoon and got back into the normal swing of things, he found himself dwelling more and more on Peter's idea. To tell the truth, memories of his conversation with Peter kept intruding throughout the honeymoon. Not all the way through, obviously. There were quite a few moments when he was rather pleasantly distracted. But there were a few occasions when he was on his own, or lying awake at night, and he would remember the utter conviction in Peter's voice; then he would remember Sirius' behaviour at the wedding, and the tiniest bit of doubt would creep in. Come to think of it, that speech was a little odd, wasn't it? What was all that stuff about socks?

He really wished he could talk to Lily, but that was out of the question. How on earth could he start that conversation? _Hi, darling! Um, Peter, you know, the person I never listen to, has this completely insane theory that I don't believe for a moment, but I'm bringing it up anyway just so you can reassure me..._ No. Not happening.

He also really didn't want to talk to Lily about it because he had a feeling that she would ask him why the idea bothered him so much, and it wasn't a question he was sure he could answer. He honestly didn't know _why_ it bothered him so much. It wasn't as though he was homophobic; after all, his best friend was, actually, gay, not to mention supremely unselfconscious about the fact. But he kept remembering that day when Sirius walked into the dormitory in fifth year and calmly announced that, after a bit of experimentation and a lot of thinking, he had decided that he preferred boys to girls if that was quite all right with everyone. Peter's reaction had been to laugh; then, when he realised that Sirius meant it, he had blushed and stammered, but seemed to accept it very quickly. Remus...well, it was never easy to tell what Remus was thinking, but he had seemed utterly unsurprised by the news. He had merely clapped Sirius on the back and made some sort of joke about not making it known to the school at large, or the female half of the third year might throw themselves off the Astronomy Tower.

James, on the other hand, was taken aback. Very taken aback. There was a slight sense of hurt that Sirius hadn't told him first. And, if he was being completely honest here, his first thought was _'he doesn't fancy me, does he?'_ It wasn't a thought he was particularly proud of, but it had been his instinctive reaction. He had done his best to act completely normal, however, and within about a month his friendship with Sirius was much as it ever had been. It took him very little time to get used to Sirius' next announcement, at the beginning of fifth year, that he was in love with Alistair Turner; Head Boy, Quidditch captain, and practically a god to half the school. It took him a great deal longer to get used to the idea that Alistair returned Sirius' feelings – the relationship was only known to a few select people, but those who knew would probably never recover from it. James couldn't help smiling, even now, remembering the rows, the tears, the hysterics...in hindsight it was funny, but they had all been heartily relieved when Alistair had left the school and Sirius had moved on with his life.

But this was different. That initial negative reaction had probably more to do with shock than anything else, plus a sort of fear of the unknown. Everyone was aware that that sort of thing went on, but it was just Not Done to talk about it, especially at Hogwarts, where privacy was rare enough to be precious. Sirius had never been one to do what was expected of him, but James had still been more shocked than he cared to admit, even to himself.

But he had got used to it now and it genuinely didn't bother him anymore. So why was he so freaked out by the conversation he had with Peter? Especially since he didn't even believe Peter's idea. Okay, perhaps there had been some doubt at first, but after a lot of three-in-the-morning thinking, he had come to the conclusion that it just didn't make any sense for Sirius to be in love with him. Why now? He supposed it could be argued that it was because of the wedding and everything, but he'd been with Lily for nearly three years now, and Sirius had never acted like this before.

Eventually, he decided he was looking at the whole thing from entirely the wrong angle. There could be any one of a hundred explanations for Sirius' behaviour; what he really needed to do was talk to his friend, find out what was wrong. After all, this was _Sirius_. The two of them had been best friends practically from the day they had met. Everyone said they were as close as brothers and they had certainly never kept secrets from each other. Why would one of them start now? (Besides that. _That_ wasn't an explanation he was prepared to accept right now.)

This very simple plan of just talking to Sirius, however, soon turned out not to be simple at all, for he quickly found out that Sirius was avoiding him. At first he was able to convince himself that he was just being paranoid, but after the tenth conversation consisting entirely of the words 'Hi, can't stop, talk to you later', he could no longer delude himself.

He had an interesting conversation with Remus after about a fortnight of this. He hadn't meant to – he had actually come to their flat to look for Sirius – but Sirius was out; a situation that was apparently something of a regular occurrence lately.

'In fact,' added Remus with a grin, bringing two steaming mugs of tea to the table, 'if it wasn't for the occasional wet towel on the bathroom floor, I'd suspect he'd moved out without telling me.'

The two friends sat in companionable silence for a while, James wondering how to start the conversation, when Remus suddenly spoke.

'I've been meaning to talk to you, actually. You don't know what's up with Sirius, do you?'

James nearly spat out his tea. _What did Remus suspect? Worse still, what did Remus know?_ He looked suspiciously across the table, but, as usual, Remus' face betrayed nothing of his thoughts.

'Have you been talking to Peter?' James said eventually. It seemed a safe enough question.

'Yes, as a matter of fact,' replied Remus. 'But I noticed something before that.' He took a sip of his tea, looking thoughtful. 'I was waiting for Sirius to tell us – you know what he's like, he can't keep anything to himself for long – but it's just getting ridiculous now. I can't count the number of times in the last few weeks that Sirius has gone out as soon as I've come home.'

'So...he's avoiding you too?' asked James, trying not to sound too relieved. _If he's avoiding Remus too, then maybe it's not...what Peter said_.

'Is he avoiding you? Damn,' said Remus with a wry smile, 'I'd hoped you could tell me what's wrong.'

James shrugged. 'Afraid not. I'm sure he'll tell us eventually though.'

Remus opened his mouth, looking as though he was about to say something, then closed it again.

'What?' said James.

''What', what?'

'What were you going to say?'

'I wasn't going to say anything.'

'Yes you were, you were going to say something.'

'Honestly, it wasn't anything. Just a stupid idea. Biscuit?' James watched him suspiciously, but knew better than to press the point. They had all learned a long time ago about Remus' talent for keeping secrets.

They stayed on safer topics for the rest of the conversation before James made his excuses and left, feeling more confused than ever. He was now less convinced of the validity of Peter's idea, but far more convinced that something really was wrong with Sirius.

He did his best to act as normal as he could, but some of his thoughts must have shown themselves, as Lily kept giving him funny looks throughout dinner. She said nothing, however, until they were sat in the living room, enjoying a last glass of wine before the fire.

'I'm not going to make you tell me what's wrong,' she suddenly said, almost causing James to drop his glass in surprise. 'I'm just going to remind you that I'm your wife, and it was only a few weeks ago that you made all sorts of promises to me in front of all our friends and relatives. I'm going to leave it entirely up to your own conscience whether you want to keep things from me.'

James rolled his eyes. 'Subtle, Lily, very subtle.' She twisted round to look at him.

'Well?'

He sighed. 'You don't need to worry, it's nothing bad.' _I hope_, he added to himself. 'I'm just a bit worried about Sirius.'

'Anything specific, or just Sirius in general?'

'I don't know, to be perfectly honest.'

'Talk to him then. Find out what's wrong.' Lily settled back on his shoulder, apparently satisfied with this conclusion. James stared at the fire, wondering what to do. _What I need_, he thought, _is a plan..._

Phase One of said plan went off without a hitch; James laid in wait for Sirius outside his office one Tuesday lunchtime. As Sirius left the office, slouching, shuffling his feet and glowering at the wall opposite, James fell into step beside him.

'Hello stranger!' he said, grinning as Sirius jumped and nearly dropped his papers. 'I'm sure I've seen you somewhere before, but I just can't remember where...'

'Laugh? I almost started,' said Sirius dryly. 'What are you doing here, Prongs?'

'I'm kidnapping my best friend, whom I haven't seen properly in months, forcing him to have lunch with me and tell me what's wrong.'

Sirius stopped walking and turned to James, a frown appearing between his eyebrows.

'What do you mean? There's nothing wrong.'

'Well then, if there's nothing wrong, you haven't been avoiding me and so we can go to lunch. And don't tell me you have work to do or anything like that, as I won't believe a word of it. You're coming with me and that's that.'

And ignoring Sirius' spluttered words of protest, James seized his best friend by the elbow and led him down the hall.

Half an hour later, they were firmly ensconced in the Leaky Cauldron, sitting in an uncomfortable silence. Sirius was sulking, staring at the table, and James, for the first time since he was eleven, found himself at a complete loss of what to say to his best friend. Tom the landlord came and took their order; then James decided enough was enough, and it was time to get right to the point.

'Well,' he said cheerfully, 'isn't this jolly?' _Well done, James_.

Sirius gave him a Look.

'No, not really.'

'Look, Padfoot, are you going to tell us wh...'

'I'm fine, James,' Sirius cut in, 'honestly I am.' And he gave James such a Sirius-like grin that his confidence was shaken for a moment. _Maybe we were wrong..._

Sirius went on. 'I've been working really hard lately – Dugdale is such a slavedriver, and he's more paranoid than Moody. And I'll tell you something else.' He leaned across the table, looking solemn. 'It's all flaming _paperwork_! Some people will tell you Auror training is a life full of danger, all about moonlit chases over the roof tops and hand to hand fighting with Dark wizards. These people are lying. The life of an Auror is about filing reports. The closest I've come to danger recently is a vicious paper cut I got on my finger.' James laughed in spite of himself, and, although he was far from convinced, he couldn't help relaxing.

'So can we please talk about something else?' said Sirius with a pleading grin.

'What do you want to talk about?'

'How about...the surprise party you've got planned for my birthday next month?'

'You're not getting a surprise party, Sirius.'

'Aha!' Sirius tapped the side of his nose. 'Keeping it secret so it's a proper surprise? Good job.'

'So if I tell you that we have planned a surprise party for you, would you believe that we haven't?'

'I would, except that it would _obviously_ be a double bluff, as you would know I wouldn't believe you, so either way I'm getting a party.'

James shrugged. 'It's your funeral.'

'No,' said Sirius thoughtfully, 'I'm pretty certain it'll be my birthday. You can tell the difference, you know, because of the lack of coffins and crying, and the presence of presents.' He grinned. 'Hey, presence of presents, get it?'

'Will you be serious for one minute?' said James in frustration. 'Turn that into some sort of pun,' he added, 'and I will be forced to hit you.'

Sirius looked as though he was sorely tempted to disobey, but luckily for him, he chose not to. His expression grew serious. 'The truth?'

James nodded. 'The truth.'

'Well...I'm not going to pretend everything's rosy, because it isn't. You and I both know that. Everything's in a right bloody mess right now, and chances are it'll get worse before it gets better.' Sirius started shredding his napkin, possibly out of nerves, possibly in order to avoid James' eyes. 'For some bizarre reason, I chose to work for the Ministry, which is in a complete panic – no one trusts anyone else, no one knows what's going on...On top of this, my best friend just got married, and although I'm very happy for him, it's still a bit weird, especially considering we only left school a couple of years ago. I hardly see any of my friends any more…'

James had to interrupt at this point. 'Are you honestly trying to tell me that you haven't been avoiding us?'

Sirius paused. 'The point is,' he said slowly, 'there is nothing specifically wrong with me that involves you in any way.'

'That's not an answer.'

He shrugged, and began to neatly pile up the remains of his napkin. 'It's the only answer I can give you.'

James opened his mouth to argue; then closed it in defeat. Something told him that this was all he was going to get, at least for today. _First Remus, now Sirius...if Peter starts keeping secrets from me too, I'm giving up and finding some new friends._

The rest of the meal passed pleasantly enough; by some sort of unspoken mutual agreement they stuck to the subject of Quidditch, arguing cheerfully over whether any team had a chance of standing in the way of the Magpies' title bid this season. James could almost convince himself that Sirius was exactly the same as he ever was. He still had that nagging feeling that something was off-kilter, but he successfully suppressed it for the moment. _Though tomorrow is another day..._ He managed to talk Sirius into coming over that evening for dinner, and was reassured by how little resistance he put up. Eventually, Sirius looked at his watch and gave a sort of yelp of surprise.

'I'm late! Dugdale'll kill me.' He got up from his chair and looked beseechingly at James. 'Do you mind paying the bill, Prongs? I haven't any money on me.' James agreed, rolling his eyes. It appeared that everything really was back to normal.

As Sirius walked out of the door, James suddenly remembered something and called after him. 'I forgot to ask, what do you want for your birthday?'

'Socks!' Sirius called back, not bothering to turn round.

'Socks?'

'Yep, lots of thick woolly socks.'

James sat at the table, staring at the door which Sirius had gone through. _Socks?_ he thought blankly. _What the hell is the deal with the socks?_

He spent the rest of the afternoon sitting at his desk, staring into space and getting absolutely nothing done. Forgoing work in favour of replaying their conversation over in his head, by the end of the day he had a strong desire to beat his head against the wall. He wasn't denying that it had been great to have a proper conversation with his best friend for the first time in what felt like months, but throughout he had had the sense that Sirius was almost trying too hard to act normally. At least one good thing had come out of the experience; he now had no doubts whatsoever that Sirius was keeping something from him.

As five o'clock ticked ever nearer, he laid his head on his arms and began to think of his next move.

_Time for Plan B..._


	3. Lily

**Lily**

  
_There goes my baby  
She knows how to rock and roll  
She drives me crazy  
She gives me hot and cold fever  
Then leaves me in a cool, cool sweat  
_

Lily and Sirius had always had a sort of love-hate relationship; both of them loved James and hated each other. Actually, that was a severe oversimplification (also known as a lie). Firstly, James and Sirius probably wouldn't admit they loved each other under pain of death; if Lily pushed it, they would most likely look at her as though she were mad, say that they were mates, all right, what more did she want, and roll their eyes at each other, muttering 'women' under their breath. Secondly, she didn't really _hate_ Sirius, and she was pretty certain he didn't hate her. Of course, there had been a time when she might have used the h-word, but there was a time when she would have used the same word about James. Just as one had grown on her, the other had too (she had long ago got used to the fact that the two of them came as a package; two for the price of one, as it were).

She got on with him a lot better now that she understood him better; in particular, she owed a lot to that day when James quietly took her aside and explained about Sirius' family situation and how this was never, ever to be mentioned to Sirius under any circumstances, okay? It was much later that Sirius told her about his personal life – she'd never forget the expression on his face – it was the first time she'd seen him really nervous – and the last pieces of the puzzle had fallen into place.

She certainly understood him _better_ now, but she still didn't fully understand him. The fact that she was the only person by this point not to have noticed that Sirius was acting oddly was hardly surprising. She had, of course had other things on her mind (a wedding for starters), but to be honest, she might not have noticed anyway.

Therefore, the conversation she had with Peter one Sunday lunchtime came completely out of the blue. The group had drifted into a pattern of always having Sunday lunch together, no matter what else was going on, for it gave a semblance of normality to lives that were growing more and more chaotic. On this particular Sunday, whilst Sirius took the other two outside to rhapsodise about his new motorbike, Peter had hung back to talk to Lily. It wasn't the first time that Peter had chosen Lily as a confidant, so she wasn't particularly surprised this time. Then he had explained his idea.

Once she had realised he wasn't joking, and had apologised to him for laughing, she had told him calmly and patiently that she really didn't think Sirius was in love with James, she herself hadn't noticed any change in his behaviour, and if there was such a change, there could be any number of reasons for it. She wasn't sure that Peter was entirely convinced, but she had done her best to persuade him that the idea was preposterous. And the idea was preposterous; in fact, it was so preposterous...

...that she was still thinking about it two days later. Lily sighed and glanced back down at the Daily Prophet article that she had spent the last half hour trying to read. To be honest, she had no idea what it was even about. She folded up the paper in resignation and propped her head in her hands, watching the clock. James should be home any minute...

As if on cue, her husband Apparated into the kitchen with a 'pop', grinning as he saw Lily sat at the table. He walked over to her, leaned over and kissed her thoroughly; he then took her hand, looked deep into her eyes, and said, 'Have I told you today how much I love you?'

'What do you want?' asked Lily sweetly. James dropped her hand and straightened up.

'Too much?' he said, sliding into the seat on the opposite side of the table.

'Definitely too much. I'm surprised you didn't turn up with flowers and chocolates.'

James shrugged. 'I would have done if I'd had time. I need a favour.'

'How did I guess? What kind of favour?'

'Well...' He took a deep breath and plunged on. 'I need you to talk to Sirius for me.'

Lily raised an eyebrow. 'You need me to do what?'

'You have to talk to Sirius. There's something up with him, he's been behaving really strangely.'

Lily bit back the automatic retort, and simply asked, 'So why do I have to talk to him? He's your best friend. You talk to him.'

James sighed. 'I've tried, he's having none of it.'

'Why not?' Her mind instantly flew to her conversation with Peter...but no, that couldn't be it. There could be any one of a million reasons why James was looking awkward, avoiding her eyes, and obviously hiding something from her, and she was sure she would think of one in a minute. Oh well, no point in beating around the bush.

'Have you been talking to Peter?' she asked bluntly. James looked shocked, confused, and slightly guilty.

'Did he say something to you?' She nodded. 'I can't believe he did that! I specifically asked him not to.'

'Well, it's a good thing he did, since you obviously weren't planning on telling me. You...don't believe it, do you?' 

"Of course not! Why,' he added, 'do you?'

'No!' Lily exclaimed, indignant. And she didn't believe it, she had just...wondered. She paused, before saying hesitantly, 'Though it would explain some things. Like the best man's speech.'

'You sound like Wormtail. Can't we just chalk that one up to the champagne? And you still haven't answered me. Will you talk to Sirius or not? He might prefer to talk to you, the others are always telling you things.' Lily had to acknowledge that this was true, why else would Peter have come to her in the first place? She looked back at James, who was giving her a pleading look, and she resigned herself to the inevitable.

'All right, I'll do it. But,' she added as James leapt up to hug her, 'you owe me, ok? I'm not going to forget this.'

'Thank you, sweetheart.' said James, grinning.

'Call me sweetheart again and I'm not doing it. You can tell him to come over this evening.'

James got up and walked to the door. 'Funny thing. I already did.' He flashed her a quick grin and was gone.

Sirius turned up around seven, his slightly-too-cheerful-to-be-believable grin disappearing on finding out that James was absent. He had gone to the pub twenty minutes beforehand, leaving a rather flimsy cover story and strict instructions not to let Sirius leave until she had got the truth out of him. Lily didn't really consider this a fair exchange.

'So sorry he couldn't be here to tell you himself,' Lily said breathlessly, leading the way into the living room, 'but it was really sudden, he didn't say what it was about, just that it was an emergency...I'm sure it's nothing serious though, James will probably be back in a minute, do you want a drink?' _Stop babbling_, she chided herself.

Sirius said 'yes' to the drink, but otherwise remained silent; he simply stared at her for a while, until she found herself flushing and turned away.

'How stupid do you think I am, Lily?' he eventually asked. 'Don't answer that,' he added quickly as she opened her mouth to reply. She opened her eyes wide in mock innocence.

'I don't know what you're talking about, Sirius.'

He gave a snort. 'Of course you don't. It's entirely a coincidence that on the same day that James oh-so-subtly tried to get me to tell him what was wrong, he invites me over for dinner – but look, he's nowhere to be found! And of course you know nothing about it, it's not as though you've been allocated the task of interrogating me until you get the truth.'

'So, you're admitting there's something wrong, are you?' said Lily hopefully. He gave her a scornful look.

'I'm saying nothing. Can I have that drink now?' She poured him a glass of wine and they both sat down, Lily pondering her next move.

'If...' she began, but stopped. Sirius looked at her, waiting. She tried again. 'If you were right, and this was all a set up...has it ever occurred to you that the reason everyone's trying to find out what's wrong is that they care about you? I think James is really quite worried, and he hasn't said anything, but I think Remus is too.'

Sirius gave her an unreadable look, then looked down again, swirling the liquid in his glass. He exhaled loudly. 'I'm not denying that you all care about me, I know that. But if something's wrong...and I'm not saying it is...it's just nobody else's business, that's all. If it was anything important, I'd tell James, you know I would. So, personally, I think this is just nosiness, pure and simple.' He grinned at her, daring her to tell him different.

'But you've never kept things from James before...'

'How do you know that? If I've kept things from him, he doesn't know about them, does he?' He drained his glass, and put it on the table next to him, attempting to balance it on the edge. Lily promptly grabbed it, fearing for her upholstery, and glared at him.

'Are you saying you have kept things from him?'

'No, I'm not saying that, I'm just saying that you don't know.'

Lily paused, then said with an air of triumph, 'So you're admitting that something's wrong, and you're hiding it from James.'

Sirius groaned and threw himself full length on the sofa, burying his face in a cushion. The word he uttered was inaudible, which was probably a good thing.

'James told me not to give up until I had found out the truth, so you may as well just tell me now,' she continued calmly.

'Well, I'm not going to tell you,' he said, his voice smothered by the cushion, 'so you may as well just stop asking.'

'Sirius?' Lily asked tentatively, having made up her mind. She was sick of all this dancing around the subject, it was time for the truth. A muffled grunt came from the general direction of the sofa, which she took as encouragement to keep talking.

'Are you in love?'

Silence.

'You are, aren't you?'

Silence.

'Is it someone I know?'

The silence continued to be silent, only more so.

_What harm could it do to say it?_ she asked herself. _The worst he can do is tell you the truth._ Hesitant, but determined, she took a deep breath and went for broke.

'Is…is it James?'

Slowly (and silently) Sirius' shoulders began to shake.

'Oh god,' Lily whispered to herself. She had never really believed it, and as she sat there in shock, it occurred to her that she'd never seen Sirius cry before. She felt a sudden surge of guilt, for she hadn't meant to push him so far.

'I'm sorry, Sirius, I didn't mean to upset you...'

Sirius rolled over onto his back and Lily suddenly noticed there seemed to be no trace of tears on his (rather red) face; in fact he appeared to be..._laughing_?

'You're not crying, are you,' she said, slightly annoyed.

'James?' gasped Sirius, now clutching his side as he struggled to breathe. '_James_!'

'All right, all right, it's not that far fetched.' said Lily, now feeling rather insulted. _What's wrong with James?_

'Actually, Lily, it really is.' Sirius managed to get a grip on himself and sit up straight. 'James. Honestly.'

'So are you going to tell me who it is, or do I have to hex you?'

Sirius sighed. 'There's no point, because it doesn't matter anyway. It's stupid, and wrong, and embarrassing, and they don't feel the same way, and even if they did I wouldn't do anything about it, but they don't, and it's just a stupid little thing, and I'm going to get over it, and it's stupid anyway.' He finished and raised his head, looking at Lily who had her mouth open. She closed it quickly. A thought occurred to her.

'It's not a _girl_ is it?'

Sirius snorted. 'What do you take me for? I got over that phase when I was fourteen.' He threw himself back onto the sofa.

'Well, then I really don't see the problem. How do you know they don't feel the same way?'

'I just do. And stop asking me about it, cos I'm not going to tell you.' He looked up at her, a sudden hopeful expression on his face. 'Can I still stay for dinner?'

'Hmm? Oh, of course you can,' said Lily absently, wondering whether to accept defeat for now or keep trying. She pushed herself off the chair. 'Tell you what, I think Peter's still in Scotland, but I'll ask Remus to join us.'

'No!' Sirius exclaimed. Lily looked back at him, eyebrows raised. He flushed. 'I mean, there's no need. He said he's working tonight.'

Lily continued to stare at him, realisation slowly dawning; in fact, she wondered with forehead-smacking astonishment why the possibility had never occurred to her before.

'Oh my god…it's Remus, isn't it?'

Sirius said nothing, though he turned a rather deeper shade of red.

'Awwww.'


	4. Sirius

**Sirius**

  
_I gotta stay cool, relax, get hip  
And get on my tracks  
Take a back seat, hitch-hike  
And take a long ride on my motorbike  
Until I'm ready  
Crazy little thing called love  
_

Sirius was not a good cook. He wasn't a particularly bad cook either; he fell somewhere between burnt toast and gourmet dinners on the culinary scale. The problem, as he used to say in his defence, was that he'd never really had the opportunity to learn. Until that fateful day he had had enough and said goodbye to Grimmauld Place forever, he was used to food simply appearing on the table; he knew vaguely that house elves were involved somewhere, but he'd never given much thought to it.

The experience of living on his own had come as something of a shock. For a while, he had lived almost entirely on takeaways, baked beans on toast, Madam Whitlow's Meals For The Wizard In A Hurry, and of course the weekly Sunday lunch over at the Potter's house. Eventually, James' mum had taken pity on him and taught him a few basic recipes and simple cooking spells, an act for which he was eternally grateful; without it, he would probably have starved to death long ago.

Remus was no great shakes at it himself, but they had set up a sort of nominal cooking rota between them. It tended to get abandoned on a fairly regular basis, especially recently, but tonight was Sirius' turn and for once he was honouring that.

At the moment, he was standing at the worktop, chopping vegetables. He could have got the knives to do it for him, of course, but there were some things he preferred to do the Muggle way, and chopping was one of them. There was something very satisfying about it, and the _thunk, thunk_ of the knife hitting the board was helping to erase his memories of yesterday's conversation with Lily.

_She thought it was sweet_. He stepped up the pace, viciously attacking the mushrooms. _I can't believe she thought it was sweet_. He had imagined telling everyone thousands of times, and had imagined various reactions - revulsion, puzzlement, derision, laughter - but the idea that anyone would think it was 'sweet' was one that had never even entered his head. _Sweet indeed_. He moved onto the tomato, cursing as juice splurted out over the counter.

Lily had apologised afterwards, agreed it was very serious and not something to 'aw' over, and had faithfully promised not to tell James, but she had kept grinning at him stupidly throughout dinner nonetheless. He had a feeling he was going to have to avoid her for a while until she had got over it. _Sweet_. He snorted in disbelief. He would never understand women.

He wondered what she had told James. He knew he could trust her not to give him away, but he also knew that James wouldn't give up that easily. In a way - and he hated to admit it - it would be a relief to have James find out. Not that he wanted anyone to know, but all this subterfuge stuff was getting really wearying. Sirius was not cut out for keeping secrets or lying to his friends by nature; it went completely against the grain to do so.

But he had got into a habit of keeping this particular secret. For some reason though, it was a lot harder these days than it had been when he was a teenager. He paused, staring into space and remembering that feeling of having a crush on someone he was completely unable to avoid; he had learned very quickly how to act normally, and he had got over it before too long. Though Alistair had helped somewhat there - and that was a memory he couldn't help smiling at.

But something was different this time. He didn't know why, but he didn't seem able to hide it very well, and he wasn't getting over it. It had been, what, five or six weeks since the night of the rehearsal? And it was just getting _worse_.

Of all the Muggle traditions that Sirius had found amusing, the idea of the rehearsal was the funniest. 'What's the point of rehearsing?' he had asked James at the time. 'It's a wedding, it's not exactly difficult.' Lily had snapped at him for that - mind you, Lily was snapping at everyone in the days leading up to the wedding - and given them all another lecture about pretending to be Muggles and respecting Muggle traditions. Sirius could practically quote said lecture off by heart at this point.

Anyway, the rehearsal had been quite boring, though thankfully not that long, and afterwards they had all gone to the pub in order to toast James and Lily's last night as single people - the usual suspects, plus Emma and Gwen, Lily's bridesmaids. And as they had sat there, Sirius had found his eyes drawn to the sofa where Emma and Remus sat talking. As the night went on, and Emma's flirting became more and more blatant, Sirius had suddenly found himself fighting an overwhelming urge to dive across the table and strangle the silly woman. Though really, anyone would be annoyed the way she kept brushing Remus' arm like that, or playing with her hair and giggling. Even now, the memory of it added a little extra vigour to his chopping. _Stupid woman_.

The rest of that night was something of a haze, but he clearly remembered waking up on the morning of the wedding and being puzzled by his reactions of the night before. He had eventually decided the whole thing was just a funny five minutes, as Mrs. Potter would put it, and he had got up and made himself breakfast in the normal way, completely calm. Completely calm, that is, until Remus wandered in the kitchen, bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, smiled at him and yawned good morning. Sirius had promptly dropped the mug he was holding and lost the ability to speak English.

He had reassured himself that it really wasn't that big a deal. So he fancied one of his best friends, so what? It had happened before (with the same person, come to that), and he had got over it then, he would get over it now. He successfully ignored the little voice that pointed out that he _hadn't_ got over it, or the feelings wouldn't be resurfacing now.

He had done his best to act normally throughout the morning, though he was aware he had nearly blown his cover a couple of times. Luckily, it seemed as though everyone had been too busy or distracted to notice. But by the time the actual wedding was over, he was pretty close to cracking.

He had tried his hardest, honestly he had, but every time he had seen James and Lily together he had found himself wanting to punch something at the unfairness of it all. It wasn't just because of random unbidden thoughts that he was doing his best to ignore about young men with brown hair and nice smiles. It was also because he knew he would probably never have what they had. Even if, by some miracle, they all survived the war and he found someone willing to put up with him, he would never be accepted in the same way, never have the chance to stand up in front of everyone and say the vows.

His mood wasn't helped by Mrs. Potter, who, as much as he loved her, was completely oblivious. She spent the whole of the reception telling him that he really ought to find a nice girl and settle down, there was no point in waiting, had he met Agnes by the way? You know, Mrs. Butterworth's daughter, lovely girl, very pretty, had just got a promising job with the Ministry... It was enough to drive anyone insane, and Sirius' credentials there had never been very good to start with.

The speech...well, the speech wasn't his fault, they really should have warned him about that. If he'd had time to prepare, he would have been able to avoid rambling, or mentioning things that really shouldn't be mentioned. To tell the truth, he couldn't remember very clearly everything he'd said, but he had got the impression from other people that it wasn't the most _conventional_ speech ever made. He probably shouldn't have brought up the whole sock thing, but only one person there would have understood the reference anyway. Unfortunately, it was the worst possible person, but since he hadn't mentioned it, Sirius assumed he had forgotten about it.

'Wish I could forget about it,' he muttered mutinously to himself, setting the kettle to boil with a tap of his wand.

'Forget about what?' said a familiar voice. Sirius jumped, and swore loudly as boiling water splashed down his arm and over his shirt. He rushed over to the sink and stuck his arm under the running tap, glaring at the figure in the doorway.

'Now see what you made me do! Do you have to sneak up on people like that?'

'Sorry!' said Remus, sounding like he meant it as he came over to the sink. He took hold of Sirius' arm, examining it gingerly. Sirius did his best not to flinch and to keep breathing normally, a task that was suddenly much harder than normal.

'It should be all right, just keep it under the water,' said Remus, letting go. Sirius wasn't entirely sure if he was relieved or disappointed. _Pull yourself together_, he told himself firmly. 'I'm pretty certain we've got some stuff for burns somewhere,' Remus continued, 'I'll go have a look.' He left the kitchen and Sirius returned to the task of keeping the water flowing over his arm. He could feel where Remus' hand had been, as clearly as though it had been branded into his skin.

Groaning, he strongly resisted the urge to beat his head against the worktop. 'Why is this happening to me?'

'First sign of madness, you know.' Remus had apparently re-entered the kitchen. 'Talking to yourself.'

Sirius glared at him. 'That's twice in ten minutes you've done that. If you're not going to make more noise when you walk, we're going to have to get you a little bell or something. Anyway,' he added as Remus laughed and starting applying a thick orange paste to the burnt arm, 'talking to yourself is supposed to be a sign of intelligence. I read that somewhere.'

'Really? And the people who claim this, they don't talk to themselves as well, by any chance?'

'I wouldn't dare to guess. Thanks,' he added as Remus prodded the paste with his wand; the burn healed over, leaving slightly pink skin. 'Want a cup of tea? Since the kettle's boiled.'

'I'm all right, thanks. Is there time for me to have a bath before dinner? I'm exhausted.'

Sirius looked at him, noticing the pale skin and the bags under the eyes. 'You do look awful.'

'Thanks, Padfoot.'

'I just meant, you know, more than usual. No, wait that's not what I meant either...stop laughing like that. My point was, you shouldn't be feeling too bad for a week or so yet, should you? Do you think you're coming down with something?'

'I doubt it,' said Remus, cheerfully enough. 'I do feel a bit rough, but it's probably just tiredness.'

Sirius returned to the vegetables. 'Why don't you go and have a bath then, and we'll eat in about an hour.'

'Thanks.' Remus lingered in the kitchen, however, watching Sirius slice the pepper. 'Padfoot?' he asked hesitantly.

'What?'

'Are you feeling depressed?'

'What makes you say that?' said Sirius in alarm.

'All this.' Remus made a gesture that took in the whole of the kitchen. 'You're chopping things. You only chop things and make meals that involve every saucepan and utensil in the kitchen when you're depressed, or worried about something.'

Not for the first time, Sirius cursed the decision to live with someone who knew him almost better than he knew himself. He forced himself to smile. 'Nonsense! I'm fine. Just felt like cooking properly tonight. Now go and have a bath,' he added, waving his knife in a threatening sort of manner.

'All right, I'm going.'

Watching him leave the room, Sirius noticed with some surprise that this was probably the most normal conversation they'd had together in weeks. _All I have to do is pour boiling water over myself every day, and we'll be back to normal in no time._ He went back to his chopping, feeling slightly more cheerful.

The meal that evening was a fairly relaxed affair. Both men were fairly silent throughout; Sirius just didn't really trust himself to speak, and Remus didn't seem that inclined to be talkative either. But the silence was more comfortable than awkward, and as the evening wore on, Sirius felt himself relaxing. Probably a mistake, but he had been friends with Remus for so long that it was difficult to remain constantly tense.

'That was delicious, Padfoot, thank you,' said Remus, putting his knife and fork neatly on his empty plate. He leaned back in his chair, looking entirely at his ease. 'What are you up to tonight?'

'Hmmm?' Sirius hadn't been listening properly, lost in a sort of daydream. His brain caught up with his ears. 'Oh, right. I don't think I'm doing anything, really.'

Remus gasped in mock surprise. 'You mean you don't have to rush off somewhere, or lock yourself in your room to do work? All right, who are you, and what have you done with Sirius Black?'

Sirius looked at him in some surprise. Remus was smiling, and didn't really look all that put out, but... Sirius had never considered before that his friends might actually have been hurt by his avoiding them. It wasn't a pleasant thought.

'No,' he said, feeling a bit confused. 'I've got a free night.'

'You mean we could actually have a conversation? Like normal friends and flatmates? I must mark this momentous event on the calendar.'

'All right!' snapped Sirius. 'I get the point! There's no need to be sarcastic.' _It's all right for you,_ he thought bitterly, _you haven't fallen in love with one of your best friends_. He froze, horror struck.

Remus was talking again, looking as though he was apologising, but Sirius couldn't really hear him. There was an odd sort of ringing in his ears. _I didn't just think the L-word - did I?_

'Um, Padfoot? Are you okay?' Remus was looking at him oddly.

'Gnnhh.' His vocal chords didn't seem to be working. _How in the hell did it come to...the L-word?_

'I'm sorry?'

He cleared his throat. 'I'm fine. Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you like that.' Mind still blank, he stood up and automatically started piling the plates together. Remus was still looking at him in some concern. 'Look,' he added suddenly, 'since I've got an evening off, I might go for a ride on the bike. I've been neglecting the old girl a bit recently.'

'Only you could call a motorbike an 'old girl',' said Remus with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. His expression was unreadable. 'Well, have fun.' He got up from the table and walked out of the room. Sirius watched him go, more confused than ever. _Why can't I just stay cool? Relax?_ He stood in silence for a moment; then let out an 'argh!' of frustration, put the plates back on the table, grabbed his keys and left the flat.

'Sirius?'

The person in question, who was lying on the sofa, half asleep, jerked awake and upright at the sound of his name. Two weeks had passed, and he was no closer to solving this ridiculous situation he found himself in. If anything, things had got distinctly worse. He had begged off a full moon for the first time since they had completed the Animagus transformation, and ever since, he had had the distinct impression Remus was avoiding _him_. A new development, and not one Sirius was sure he liked.

There was one improvement, though; he didn't know what Lily had said to James, but it seemed to have worked, as James had stopped badgering him completely. As a result, Sirius had been spending more and more time at the house in Godric's Hollow, mostly playing with the various Muggle contraptions various well-meaning relatives had given Lily and James at their wedding. He was particularly fascinated by their record player, and had played one Beatles record so many times in succession that Lily had actually hidden it from him. They were probably getting a bit sick of him, but there was something curiously restful about being around his best friend and the only person who knew his secret.

On this particular occasion, however, Remus was at work, and Sirius was spending a rare evening in. He had attempted various activities, without success, and had ended up just lying on the sofa, staring into space, and attempting to make sense of his confused thoughts. He must have dropped off, but - he looked at the clock in surprise - Remus still shouldn't be home yet. 'Remus?' he called out uncertainly. The accusation 'I thought you were supposed to be at work!' died on his lips as his flatmate walked into the room. For a moment they simply looked at each other; then Sirius leapt up from the sofa.

'Moony, what happened? You look awful!'

'Once again, thank you for that assessment.' Remus said hoarsely, entering the room and flopping on the nearest chair. 'I think I've got flu.'

Sirius was rather taken aback by this statement. Remus never admitted he was ill. Ever. There had been one incident in third year when he had reached the point of fainting before he would agree to going to the hospital wing. If he was acknowledging feeling ill, things must be very bad indeed. Alarmed, he dropped to his knees in front of Remus' chair.

'How many fingers am I holding up?'

Remus rolled his eyes. 'I'm ill, not concussed,' he croaked.

'Oh, right.' Panicking slightly, Sirius tried to remember what you did for ill people. _Temperature! That was it!_ He got up, leaned over and felt Remus' forehead.

'Merlin, you're burning up!' He hauled Remus out of his chair and started ushering him to the door. 'You need to go straight to bed.'

'But...'

'No arguments! You need bed rest and...' He racked his brains. _What was the other thing people with flu were supposed to need?_

Remus interjected weakly again. 'Sirius...'

'Fluids! That's it! You need bed rest and fluids. I'll go and make you some honey and lemon.'

'Sirius!'

He stopped. 'What?'

'Sirius, I'm fully intending to go to bed, but I am capable of walking from the living room to my bedroom by myself,' Remus said dryly. Sirius realised that his arm was still curled protectively around the other man's waist, and he quickly dropped it.

'Sorry.' He had the horrible feeling he was blushing - _get a grip, Sirius!_ - but Remus didn't seemed to have noticed. They reached the bedroom, and Remus sank thankfully onto the bed.

'You get in bed,' said Sirius, hovering in the doorway awkwardly, 'and I'll just...I'll just go and make you a hot drink.' He fled the room, and made his way to the kitchen. There, he encountered some difficulty when he realised that he didn't know how to make honey and lemon, but he did the best he could, adding a generous slug of Firewhiskey as an afterthought.

Making his way back to Remus' room, he made sure to knock on the half open door before calling out; 'Moony? Are you decent?'

'I'm fully clothed, if that's what you mean.'

Sirius took this to indicate he could enter the room, and did so, carefully carrying the mug out in front of him. Remus was sat up in bed, wearing a pair of faded old flannel pyjamas. He smiled at Sirius, and reached up for the mug.

'Here you go,' Sirius said cheerfully. 'Enjoy.' He turned to leave the room, but was pulled up by a spluttering sound behind him. 'Oh right,' he added, 'I should have warned you, I put some whiskey in there. Sorry.'

'Thanks for the warning,' said Remus, smiling though his voice was still hoarse. 'Padfoot...' he added as Sirius started to leave the room again.

'What?'

Remus looked slightly embarrassed. 'Do you have to rush off? Couldn't you just stay and...talk to me for a bit? I wouldn't mind some company.' He smiled sheepishly. 'There's nothing worse than being on your own when you're not feeling too good.'

Unbidden, from nowhere, memories flooded thick and fast into Sirius' head. All those mornings they had spent crowded round Remus' bed in the hospital wing, eating chocolate frogs and sugar quills, trying to keep the noise down and failing miserably until Madam Pomfrey came and threw them all out. Before they had completed the Animagus transformation, it was the only thing they could think of to help their friend.

Once, in a rare unguarded moment, Remus had said that those mornings were among the best memories of his life. He had described to Sirius what it felt like, waking up bruised, battered and sore, remembering nothing of the preceding night, and what a difference it made to wake up and see his best friends around him. It was that conversation that had made Sirius determined to make the Animagus plan, which had been no more than a wild idea before, into a definite reality. Looking at his friend now, remembering the boy who had sat with a very similar expression on his face in the hospital wing, all those years ago, Sirius felt a sudden surge of guilt. It wasn't Remus' fault that Sirius appeared to be experiencing a fit of temporary insanity; was he going to desert one of his best friends for, well, no reason at all?

Making up his mind, he suddenly grinned, sat down, propping his legs up on the side of the bed, and said cheerfully; 'You must be ill, if you'd rather put up with me than be on your own.'

Remus smiled gratefully and leaned his head back against the wall. 'I must be,' he agreed. 'Believe me, you weren't my first choice, but you'll have to do.' There was silence for a moment as Remus sipped his drink. He did look quite bad; pale and peaky, with dark circles under his eyes. His pyjamas were slightly too big for him, and Sirius noted with shock just how thin his friend had become. A not-very-nice thought struck him. _Does he eat when I don't feed him?_

Realising he was staring, Sirius cleared his throat. 'So what do you want me to talk to you about, then?' he said lightly.

'I don't know. Anything. Tell me about work.'

'You don't want me to talk to you about work,' he said, on firmer ground here. 'It's boring. Dull as the proverbial. I'll just end up ranting about Dugdale, or Chris.'

'Who's Chris?' Remus asked, looking politely puzzled.

'You know Chris, surely? The moron I've been partnered with for the last month?' Remus simply raised an eyebrow at him. It dawned on him that he had barely spoken to Remus in the last month. 'Ah, right,' he said guiltily. 'Well, are you sitting comfortably? Believe me, I could go on for hours about this idiot. It all started a few weeks ago...'

Half an hour later, Remus' breathing had become very deep and regular, and Sirius paused in his story.

'Remus?' No answer. 'Remus? Are you awake?' Receiving nothing but silence, Sirius leaned back against the wall and simply watched him for a while, resisting an urge to brush a stray strand of hair off the sleeping man's face.

'You look so peaceful when you're asleep. Younger, almost,' he said, hardly realising he was speaking out loud. 'Not that you don't look good the rest of the time, of course, it's just...you always look so worried.' He paused, then added; 'I wish I could stop you worrying.'

He shifted to make himself more comfortable on the hard backed chair, and continued.

'Do you remember the wedding?' he said, almost conversationally. 'That was a weird day. There was this one song that was playing, while I was watching James and Lily dance, and practically dying of jealousy..._Not_ because I was in love with James,' he added, still laughing slightly at the memory. 'How could anyone think that?

'No. I wasn't jealous of them, exactly, I was jealous of what they _had_. The fact that they knew they were going to spend the rest of their lives together, and they had just let everyone know that in the most public way possible... Anyway, that song really stuck in my head. I wonder if you can remember the lyrics? Probably not. You probably didn't have any reason to take notice of the song. Lily knows about Muggle music, I could ask her, but I'd really rather not. She'd work out why I wanted to know, and be all girly about it again.' He snorted. '"Sweet" my arse. But I wish I could remember the rest of the song. I can only remember that one line, _God only knows what I'd be without you_...'

He groaned and buried his head in his knees. 'It's official. I've gone insane. Not only have I fallen in love with one of my best friends, not only have I started talking to myself, no, now I've started talking to other people who can't even hear me. And singing! Muggle songs _I don't even know_! I've gone completely round the bend!' He turned his head to look at the sleeping figure, who still had not stirred.

'This is all your fault, you know,' he said accusingly. 'Everywhere I go, you're there, being...you, and it's driving me insane. Well, no more. That's it. Starting tomorrow morning I am getting over this. I'm going to stop avoiding you, I'm going to stop avoiding everybody, I'm going to act completely normally, and I'm going to make sure you never find out what an idiot I almost made of myself.'

Satisfied with this plan, he stood up, picked up the empty mug, and started to leave the room. Before he got there, though, he stopped, and paused at the door.

'I love you. And I'm sorry.'

With that, he left, making sure to close the door behind him.

Unknown to him, Remus rolled over, looked up at the ceiling, and said:

'_What_?'


	5. Remus

**Remus**

_This thing called love, I just can't handle it  
This thing called love, I must get round to it  
I ain't ready  
Crazy little thing called love_

Remus Lupin was not a stupid man, nor was he unobservant. Out of this particular group of friends, he had been the first to notice that something was up with Sirius, but unlike Peter he had kept his theories to himself. And he had had plenty of theories, ranging from the plausible to the bizarre to the downright ridiculous. He had come a lot closer to the truth than Peter had, but he had dismissed _that_ particular possibility almost as soon as it had entered his head.

So, he had kept his thoughts to himself, and expected that Sirius would probably tell him in his own good time. What he hadn't expected was this.

He lay awake for several hours after Sirius had left the room, staring at the ceiling, thoughts whirling in his head. Various little voices - his inner Remuses as it were - were arguing with each other, trying to tell him what to do. Some were feeling rather flattered, some were confused, some were telling him to get out of bed and do something about the situation right now, whilst others were telling him, as always, to exercise caution. Unfortunately, his stuffed up head and runny nose weren't exactly conducive to any sort of deep thinking, and he dropped off to sleep around three in the morning without the voices having reached any sort of conclusion.

The next thing he knew, the sun pouring through a gap in the curtains was making his head hurt, and a different sort of voice was hissing.

'Remus? Moony, are you awake?'

Remus opened his eyes, winced, and rolled over to be confronted by the sight of Sirius negotiating a rather overbalanced tray through the half open doorway.

'Oh good!' Sirius exclaimed, seeing Remus sit up. 'You're already awake. I brought you breakfast, but I was trying not to wake you.'

_You weren't exactly trying very hard, Sirius_, thought Remus, slightly disquieted by how awkward he felt. _Whatever happens_, he told himself, _don't let him know you overheard him talking_.

He forced his face into a smile and said, 'You really didn't have to do this.' At least, that's what he tried to say. Unfortunately, the gunk coating his tongue caused it to sound more like: 'Yureldinavtodis.' He swallowed and tried again.

Sirius waved a hand dismissively. 'I know I didn't have to, but I wanted to.' He placed the tray down on Remus' lap and beamed happily. 'Full fry-up!' he announced. 'You know what they say, 'feed a cold', so I've done you egg, sausage, bacon, mushroom, tomato, and bread. Enjoy.'

Remus, who even on the best of occasions could never manage more than a cup of tea and a couple of pieces of toast in the mornings, attempted to control his heaving stomach and look grateful. 'That's...very nice of you, Padfoot,' he said weakly. 'You don't mind if I don't finish all of it, do you?'

Sirius grinned and sat down by the side of the bed. 'Not at all, I'd eat everything you can't manage.'

'I thought you might.' Remus speared a slice of fried tomato on his fork and gingerly put it in his mouth. It was not unlike chewing cardboard, but he was rewarded by Sirius' pleased face.

'Are you just going to sit there and watch me eat?' he asked, swallowing. 'Shouldn't you be at work or something?'

Sirius looked at him oddly. 'It's Saturday, remember? And I thought I'd keep you company. Nothing worse than being on your own when you're ill,' he added, grinning.

_Great, throw that back in my face_, thought Remus grumpily. There was something rather ironic about the fact that Sirius had been avoiding him for months, but now that he wanted to be alone, he couldn't get rid of his flatmate for love nor money. He winced involuntarily at the rather unfortunate choice of words.

Sirius apparently noticed the movement. 'Are you all right?'

'Yes, I'm...' Remus paused. 'Actually, no. I really don't feel too good, so would you mind if I just tried to get back to sleep?'

'Say no more,' said Sirius cheerfully. 'I know when I'm not wanted.' He picked up the tray. 'If you need me, just give me a shout, I'll be in all day. I'll look in on you later with a cup of tea, okay?'

'That's great, thanks.' Remus sank back under the covers thankfully, his head throbbing. Knowing there was no way he was getting back to sleep any time soon, he allowed himself to stare at the door which Sirius had just closed. What was he going to _do_?

He sighed. 'Bugger.'

Remus was never sure how he managed to get through the following weeks. The 'flu helped, of course, he managed to spend about a fortnight just sleeping, but that excuse eventually started to wear thin.

The real trouble was that Sirius was constantly _there_. He seemed determined to make up for his slightly odd behaviour of before by being the best friend and flatmate that there ever was...but in a very Sirius-like way. Far from never being home, he now never left the flat unless he absolutely had to, and he appeared to have decided that the best way for Remus to get well again was to supply him with a constant supply of food, tea and company.

Remus was full of admiration for the way Sirius had managed to completely change his behaviour, but he had never in his life before so badly craved space. He desperately wanted some time on his own - or at least away from Sirius - to think through everything, to wrap his head around it, but that seemed to be impossible. Salvation was to come, however, from a rather unexpected source.

On a Thursday three weeks after the overheard conversation and four days after his employer had told him that 'his services were no longer required', Remus woke in a particularly foul mood. As if things weren't bad enough, he was now having trouble sleeping, haunted by dreams where people - mostly Sirius - chased him with large platters of food.

_Really, what is going on with the constant feeding_? he mused as he shuffled into the bathroom, yawning. _Maybe he thinks that if he makes me fat, he won't be attracted to me anymore_. He snickered to himself as he brushed his teeth, though he was genuinely puzzled. It wasn't just Sirius either; every time James and/or Lily had visited they had brought huge quantities of food with them. Even Peter had got in on the act, turning up with pastries his mother had made.

_Oh, well_. He yawned and stretched his arms as he made his way back to his bedroom. It was a mystery, but he had more important things to worry about - finding another job for starters. He wasn't sure whether to start looking right away, or wait until after the upcoming full moon; on the one hand, he still wasn't feeling a hundred percent (he didn't know exactly what effect the lingering traces of the 'flu would have on his transformation, but he was prepared to bet it wouldn't be pleasant), but on the other, if he didn't have anything to occupy him for the next few days, he would probably drive himself mad wandering around the flat and dwelling on things that were better...not dwelt on.

He was still debating with himself as he entered the kitchen, where he was deeply shocked to find his former headmaster having a cup of tea with his flatmate.

'Professor Dumbledore!' he stammered, unable to cope with the rather odd picture. Dumbledore beamed at him.

'No need for the 'Professor', Remus, you're not at Hogwarts now. How are you feeling? Fully recovered, I hope?'

'I'm fine,' said Remus, who didn't waste time wondering how Dumbledore had known he was ill. He glanced at Sirius, who - he was slightly surprised to find - was looking sulky. Extremely sulky, in fact.

'I'll be going then,' said the person in question, getting up from the kitchen table with a bad grace. 'There's tea in the pot.' He grabbed his cloak and headed off, pausing at the door. 'Make sure you eat breakfast, okay?'

Remus rolled his eyes. 'Yes, Mum,' he said, straight-faced. Sirius flushed slightly, but contented himself with a quick glare before leaving.

Remus grinned slightly sheepishly at Dumbledore. 'So what brings you here, sir?' he asked, pouring himself a cup of tea and sitting in Sirius' recently vacated seat.

'Hmmm?' Dumbledore appeared not to have heard. 'I must say, this is quite a pleasant flat. I certainly didn't expect it to be so clean and tidy.' He looked amused.

Remus, who knew the real reason why Sirius had been on an out-of-character cleaning frenzy recently, decided to ignore this. 'It's Sirius' flat,' he said instead. 'He bought it with an inheritance he got from an uncle. I pay rent,' he added, a little too quickly and a little too loudly. Privately, he wondered why he was bothering. Dumbledore most likely already knew who owned the flat, where Sirius had got the money, and exactly how much rent Remus paid.

'So, sir, not that it's not nice to see you, but why are you here?'

Dumbledore sighed, and, unusually, looked hesitant. 'I need you to talk to someone for me,' he said, and paused.

Remus put down his mug and waited expectantly. He knew better than to ask questions; if Dumbledore wanted to tell him something he would get to the point eventually, and if Dumbledore wanted to keep something from him, no amount of impatient questions would help.

Slowly, as though he was picking his words carefully, he continued. 'The person in question…values their anonymity quite highly. In fact, it's taken me some time to get them to talk to anyone at all. But...they could be very useful to the Order.'

'Who is this person?'

'Have you read _Hairy Snout, Human Heart_?'

Remus smiled. 'Once or twice.' _Or two or three hundred times_, he added to himself. He actually had two copies, for his parents had bought him one for Christmas the year it had been published, and he had also received a copy from Sirius, James and Peter.

'The author prefers to remain anonymous, but...' Dumbledore hesitated. 'These are somewhat special circumstances. I know I can trust you to keep this completely secret, even from your friends?' He waited for Remus' nod before continuing. 'The author is George Hartwell - a former pupil of mine actually - who currently lives down in Wimborne. A beautiful place in the autumn, but then, you'll see that for yourself next week.' He paused, smiling at the dumbfounded expression on Remus' face. 'George has lived as a Muggle for a good few years now, and doesn't really trust wizards very much. Understandable, really, but...watch your step.'

For a moment Remus couldn't speak. 'I'm sorry,' he said eventually. 'You want _me_ to...Why me? No, sorry, stupid question. But what do you want me to do? To say?'

'You'll probably find out when you get there,' Dumbledore replied with a smile, as helpful as ever.

Remus nodded; Dumbledore kept talking, telling him when he needed to go and how he should get there, but Remus could take in very little of what he was saying.

'I'll miss Sirius' birthday,' he suddenly realised, interrupting Dumbledore.

'I'm sure he'll understand.' Dumbledore drained the dregs of his mug and stood up. 'Must be off, I'm afraid. Sometimes there just aren't enough hours in the day. Good luck. I'll expect to hear from you soon. By the way, Remus...George can sometimes be a little eccentric. Be prepared that the experience might not be exactly what you expect.' He smiled again and left, leaving Remus with his confused thoughts.

'What do you mean, you're going to miss my birthday?' Sirius was sat, looking shell-shocked, on the end of Remus' bed watching him pack. On Dumbledore's instructions, Remus hadn't told anyone he was going until the day he was due to leave - and if he was completely honest, he had been rather glad of the excuse to delay the announcement.

_Considering you spent about two months doing everything you could to avoid me, you really don't get to feel upset here_, Remus thought to himself, but he continued packing calmly. 'It's not as though you're going to miss me, you'll have James and Lily and Peter. If you don't like it, take it up with Dumbledore.'

'I might just do that. And of course we'll miss you!' _'We'_, Remus noted, wondering why he cared. 'It won't be the same without you there. Tell Dumbledore you won't do it.'

'I have to,' he said, folding up a jumper and placing it in the suitcase.

'Why? You won't even tell me what you're doing.'

Remus paused and turned to look at his friend, who did genuinely look quite upset. He sighed heavily. 'Look...you know I'd tell you if I could.'

'You would?'

'Of course I would,' he said, turning back to his packing. 'I don't like keeping secrets from you guys, but Dumbledore wants me to keep this to myself for the time being, okay?'

'Okay,' said Sirius, still looking sulky. 'Though I don't know why he'd make you travel only two days after a full moon. And on Muggle transport!'

'I'm going on Muggle transport precisely _because_ it's only two days after a full moon and I don't want to Apparate.' Muggle transport was also the best way to avoid detection, a mark of how important this errand was, and something that Sirius knew full well. 'Besides, it might be fun. I haven't been on a train since the Hogwarts Express.'

Sirius looked wistful. 'You know, part of me still misses the train ride to school. The whole thing about a new school year, full of possibilities... And we had fun, didn't we?' he added, grinning.

Remus couldn't help but grin back, his mind suddenly full of memories. 'We did. You really miss Hogwarts, don't you?'

'I know it's stupid,' Sirius said, shrugging, 'but everything seemed so much simpler then. For the most part, anyway. Then things got complicated,' he said, so quietly Remus had to strain to hear him.

'They did,' he agreed. Both men were quiet for a few moments, before Sirius shook his head as if to clear it, and asked Remus what time his train left.

'Two thirty-seven,' he replied, checking his watch.

'Want a lift to the station?'

Remus raised an eyebrow. 'On that thing?'

'Don't call my bike 'that thing'!' said Sirius, looking deeply offended. 'You'll hurt the old girl's feelings.'

'Sirius, it's a motorbike. It doesn't have feelings. But I would appreciate a lift,' he added.

'Good.'

Another awkward silence descended, again broken by Sirius, this time jumping off the bed and moving briskly to the door.

'I'm hungry. What do you fancy for lunch?'

'I'm all right, thanks, I'll have something later.' Remus looked up to find Sirius remaining where he was, frowning.

'You ought to eat something.'

'I will,' said Remus, trying not to feel irritated. 'I'm just not hungry yet, I'll find something later on.'

Sirius hesitated, still looking unhappy. 'Look, if I heat up some soup will you have some? You could eat it later if you want.'

'I am perfectly capable of feeding myself, Sirius, you don't need to worry about me.'

'Oh, I know,' he said quickly, 'but it makes sense if I make something for both of us. We've got that bread that needs eaten up, I could do us some tuna cheese melts?'

'For God's sake, Sirius!' snapped Remus, his temper finally boiling over. 'Why do you feel this constant need to feed me? I'm a grown man, I can eat or not eat whatever I bloody well want!'

'I know,' said Sirius, taken aback, 'but...'

''But' nothing! I'm sick of you constantly fussing over me, treating me like a five-year-old. I'm not an invalid and I don't need a nurse-maid!'

'But...' Sirius tried again, but some sort of dam had burst, and there was no stopping Remus now.

'And as if that's not bad enough, you had to drag everyone else into it too! I'm assuming you're the reason Lily keeps turning up with casseroles? I think I preferred it when you were avoiding me, at least it was quieter! You're not my mother and you're not...' He stopped himself.

'I'm not what?' Sirius asked quietly.

'You're not responsible for my well being, Padfoot.' said Remus, calming down. 'You really don't need to keep feeding me. What's going on?'

He looked awkward. 'I don't know. I suppose I just thought...'

'You thought what?'

'Well, you remember when you were ill? It was the first time I noticed, really noticed, how thin you are, and I just started wondering about it.'

'Some people are naturally thin, Padfoot, and besides, my eating habits are really none of your business.'

'I was just worried about you,' he said with an air of defiance, meeting Remus' eyes properly for the first time.

Remus sighed. 'So instead of talking to me about it, you decided to take charge and run my life for me?'

'Well, that's a slight exaggeration, but...' Sirius shrugged sheepishly. 'I suppose I went a bit overboard.'

'Just slightly,' said Remus, smiling faintly. 'I eat just fine, Sirius, and next time talk to me first, all right?'

Sirius nodded, then hesitated, looking as though he wanted to say something else, but eventually left the room in silence.

Remus watched the door swing shut behind him, before letting out a loud groan.

'Things did get complicated,' he muttered to himself.

The train south was relatively empty, which suited Remus perfectly. He was able to find a compartment with only one other occupant - a large, red-faced, white-haired old man who was snoring peacefully - and could settle himself in the corner with his book.

After the conductor had come round and stamped his ticket in a rather bored sort of way, done without ever looking at either the ticket or the ticket-holder, Remus stopped feeling quite so nervous. In fact, it was not unlike being back on the Hogwarts Express, and he had to fight off a huge wave of nostalgia. He gave up on the Muggle book he had bought on a whim in the station - it was boring as hell - and turned his attention to the fields flashing past the window.

He wasn't seeing the view though; he was seeing four small boys, sat in a compartment very similar to this one, talking, laughing, swapping stories and eating sweets, and generally making as much noise as they possibly could. Sirius was right, things were simpler then. When had they got so complicated?

He sighed heavily, and then turned his attention back to the matter in hand. Dwelling on memories wasn't going to do him any good, and he had more important things to worry about. Checking that the old man was still asleep, he leaned down, took a copy of _Hairy Snout, Human Heart_ out of his rucksack, and started flicking through it. There was no point in reading it, he practically knew it off by heart anyway, but there was something comforting about seeing the familiar words. It was so odd to think that he would be meeting the man who had written them in less than an hour.

He continued flicking through, not looking for any particular passage, but finding himself, almost against his will, pausing at the beginning of one well-read chapter. He began to read.

_I understand that nowadays they talk a lot more to a werewolf who just received the bite; they are told how it will affect their lives, how everything has changed, instead of the version I got which effectively boiled down to 'Your life's over. Deal with it. By the way, even _we're_ a little scared of you'._

Well, good for them. No, really, I'm glad that they give out a little more information now. But I'll bet you ten Galleons that they still don't tell people anything they actually need to know. Like, 'By the way, you know how you were always scared you'd disappoint your parents? Congratulations! You've done it! They'll never quite meet your eyes again!' Or, 'Remember those dreams you had, of a career, of making a difference? Well, you can forget them! You're a half-breed now; you don't deserve ambitions.'

But the big one, the one really glaring omission that no one will ever mention to you, is that you can forget romance. You can forget relationships. You can forget finding your One True Love and living Happily Ever After. Hell, you can even forget finding a halfway decent human being who'll agree to go to dinner with you. And the reason no one will tell you this is probably because it seems self-evident.

And so it should be. If those first few weeks are anything to go by, where old friends are suddenly too busy to visit, it's going to be a pretty lonely life from now on. Who could ever love a monster?

But at the age of 23, with my whole life ahead of me, I refused to believe that I would never find love, never settle down and raise a family (and Merlin knows I don't even like children). To be completely honest, there's a part of me now at 57 that still refuses to believe it'll never happen. A life without love may be terrible, but a life without even the hope, the possibility of finding love is worse.

The old man opposite gave a particularly loud snore, and Remus was quickly jerked out of his thoughts. He shook himself slightly and went back to flicking through the book, eventually stopping at the dedication, which still made him smile slightly every time he read it (_'To the werewolf who bit me - I hope you rot in hell, you life-stealing bastard'_). Below it were three different kinds of handwriting, spelling out words Remus knew off by heart.

_I like this bloke! I reckon we should find out who he is, track him down, shake him by the hand and make him an honorary one of us. Sounds like a kindred spirit. Anyway, Merry Christmas, Moony, and I hope you like the book. Whatever the mutt says, it was all my idea Prongs_

Merry Christmas, Moony, sorry you have to stay here! You'll have to tell us what the castle is like when it's practically empty. As for the book, I'm not taking sides. I don't know whose idea it was. I'd like to point out, however, that neither of them listened to me when I said your parents had probably bought you one too Wormtail

Don't even think of listening to that bloody horse. Not only was it my idea, but I was the one who had to waste a Hogsmeade visit by trudging all the way to that bloody bookshop while those lazy sods went to Honeydukes. And don't listen to the rat, either, if your parents have got you one too, you can have a copy at home and one at school, or one for emergencies or something. Merry Christmas, Moony Padfoot

He stared at the familiar words for a very long time, lost in thought, only closing the book and putting it away when they got close to the station. He gathered up his belongings, put the unfamiliar coat over his arm, and as he joined the throng of people in the corridor waiting to leave the train, he realised with a groan that it had started to pour with rain. There was something vaguely appropriate about it.

He followed Dumbledore's directions without difficulty, finding the house - a pleasant, old brick building some distance back from the main road - and ducking into the porch in order to escape the rain. He rang the doorbell and waited, shaking his head in an attempt to clear the water from his ears. As he waited for someone to answer the door, his thoughts turned once again to somewhere he really didn't want them to go. _I wish I could switch my brain off_, he thought irritably, as the unwanted image of Sirius' hurt face rose in his mind, and was relieved by the sound of the door opening.

He turned, ready to introduce himself, but then stopped, completely floored. On the doorstep stood one of the tiniest women he had ever seen in his life; her hair was white, but her lined face was quite brown, creating a rather odd contrast. Her hands were covered in flour, and she wore an apron which proclaimed 'Gardeners do it with gloves on' in large embroidered letters.

'Is there a problem?' the woman asked politely.

'Um…' said Remus, his mind completely blank. He must be in the wrong place, surely? He pulled himself together. 'Sorry, I was looking for George Hartwell.'

'And you've found her. You must be Remus,' said the woman, smiling slightly. She held out a hand. 'Georgina Hartwell. Dumbledore must have neglected to mention one or two things.'

'Clearly,' replied Remus, shaking her hand in a complete daze.

'Well, why don't you come in and have a cup of tea, and I'll fill you in. Follow me! Oh, and watch out for that beam there, it's a little low...too late. Never mind. You and I are no strangers to pain, right? You don't mind teabags, do you?'

'Teabags are fine,' said Remus, completely at a loss. He had followed the woman through a tiny, dark passageway, bumped his head on a beam, and now found himself in a large airy kitchen. His hostess was now bustling around the room, searching for mugs, and apologising for the mess, he had found her in the middle of baking, and could he just pass her that teapot on the shelf behind him, and did he take sugar? Not that it mattered as she had run out...

Remus, feeling as breathless as though he was the one doing the talking, did as she asked, replied that he didn't take sugar, and sat down, completely at a loss. His brain seemed to have stopped working, and one of the inner Remuses was almost expecting someone to pop out from behind a door and shout 'Surprise!'

Eventually, the woman came and sat down at the table, passing him his mug of tea and giving him what can only be described as an old fashioned look.

'I'm not what you expected.'

'I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude...'

She waved a hand. 'Don't be ridiculous, you don't need to be sorry! For some reason,' she said, looking thoughtful, 'I'm never what people expect.' She smirked at him, obviously enjoying his discomfort, and he shifted awkwardly in his chair.

'Dumbledore probably meant to teach me a lesson, but I'm damned if I know what it is,' he admitted. 'Something about books and their covers maybe. But I have to say, I've read _Hairy Snout, Human Heart_ more times than I can count, and I'm pretty certain it was written by a man. In fact, it says so on the cover...' He hesitated, feeling embarrassed, but took the book out of his bag anyway. 'And I quote: 'A heartrending account of one wizard's battle with lycanthropy.''

George shrugged. 'Publishers. What can you do?' He looked at her doubtfully, and she rolled her eyes. 'All right, so maybe I deliberately gave a certain impression. Changed a few pronouns, fudged a few things. It does say in the front that all the names are changed.'

He continued to look at her silently. 'All right! So I lied!' she snapped. 'And are you always truthful with everyone all the time?' She raised an eyebrow. 'Precisely. I just wanted to make sure no one ever found out who I was. I'm sure you can understand that need for privacy.'

Remus smiled. 'I suppose so.'

'I never met anyone from the publishers in person, and I always called myself George in any correspondence. I'm pretty certain Dumbledore is the only person who knows who 'an anonymous author' really is.'

'How did Dumbledore find out?' he asked, curious.

George frowned. 'I suppose he worked it out for himself, though I will never understand how. He taught me Transfiguration at Hogwarts - he was my favourite teacher actually. Perhaps he just recognised my style of writing, or something.' She sipped her tea, staring into the middle distance. 'Anyway, he sent me an owl, not long after publication, completely out of the blue. Hadn't heard from him in years, not since before I received the bite - my own stupid fault. Though I suppose you know that story, don't you? You've read the book.'

Remus acknowledged that he had, grinning. '...though that story takes on new significance now. Who was Andrew?'

She waggled a finger at him, looking disapproving. 'I hate that, that attitude that men and women can't be friends without something more going on. You read that story thinking I was a man, and Andrew was a man, and you didn't read anything into it. You find out I'm a woman and it 'takes on a whole new significance'? Why? Why didn't you read anything into it before?'

Remus shifted again in his seat, feeling uncomfortable with the turn this conversation was taking. 'Because, well, that's not very common, is it?'

'Don't be so sure,' she said darkly. 'Don't assume that something isn't happening just because people aren't very open about it.'

'But some people are very open about it,' Remus muttered, surprised himself at how bitter he sounded. George gave him a sharp look.

'And a lot of people are in denial. Is that better for them?' She suddenly smiled her thin-lipped smile to herself. 'Anyway, as it happens, Andrew is not his real name, and there is in fact a lot more to that story that you are not going to get to hear. Shortbread?'

He accepted a piece thankfully, realising it had been a very long time since lunch, but he was feeling more and more confused. He had been prepared for the fact that his idol might not exactly fit the image in his head, but there was no way he could have been prepared for this. The book he had read so many times he could practically quote it off by heart, the book that had been his comfort, his refuge for several years now...it wasn't real. It was all lies.

He felt a sudden surge of anger, for Dumbledore should have warned him. What was he expected to do? He looked back up to find George watching him with an unreadable expression. Looking away, he bit into his shortbread, which turned out to be dry, hard and tasteless. He should have expected it, really, it was that sort of day.

'Do you know why I'm here?' he eventually asked, seeing as the person on the other side of the table didn't look like contributing anything at any point. She raised an eyebrow.

'Don't you know?'

'No. Dumbledore said I'd find out when I get here.'

'Then I dare say it will all become clear in time,' she said with a shrug. 'In the meantime, since I'm stuck with you for a few days, you might as well make yourself useful.' She stood up with a slight grunt of effort, and walked over to the window. 'I normally wouldn't let anyone else near my garden, but my joints don't work like they used to and there's a lot of weeding needs to be done.'

She turned back from the window to find Remus staring at her, mouth open, and smiled her irritating little smile again. 'After dinner, of course. You can unpack first, I'll show you to your room.'

Sorely tempted to comment that if dinner was anything like the shortbread he'd rather starve first, he politely said 'thank you' instead and picked up his bag. He ignored the little voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Sirius and was telling him to tell the daft old bat exactly what he thought of her.

'Ow!'

'Careful,' said George cheerfully, passing with a tray of seedlings. Remus, who had just dropped a hoe on his foot, bit back a retort and merely grunted instead. He picked up the hoe and leant on it, watching George make her way slowly into the house as he got his breath back.

Three days he had been here - three days of back-breaking labour, bad meals and silent evenings in front of the fire - and although he was no nearer to guessing why Dumbledore had sent him here, he had formed a number of observations.

Firstly, and perhaps most importantly, he had discovered that he hated gardening. Loathed it with a fiery passion, in fact, and he had now firmly resolved that if he was ever so fortunate to own a house with a garden, he would pave over it immediately.

Secondly, that living with someone who is obsessed with making sure you eat properly is infinitely preferable to living with someone who was possibly the worst cook on the planet, but who _believed she was a wonderful cook_. George insisted on mealtimes being strictly adhered to, refused all help in the kitchen, and produced meals that were completely inedible. Remus was beginning to investigate the possibility of sneaking out to the corner shop and sneaking in a supply of biscuits and chocolate to sustain him.

Thirdly, he had discovered that monotonous manual labour, although tiring, was very beneficial to confused minds. He had done some serious thinking - no pun intended - while he was turning over the soil in the back garden, and although he had made no firm decision, he had managed to sort out a few things in his own head. All he had to do now was get out of here and _do_ something about the situation...

Finally, he had spent a good deal of the past three days observing his hostess, and had come to realise that, for all her bluff and bluster, she was not in the best of health. In fact, Remus was rapidly coming to the conclusion that she was quite seriously ill. She was doing her best to hide it, but he had had a lot of practice at observing people without them realising it.

Coming back to the here-and-now, he sighed and laid down his hoe. It was nearly time for lunch - actually, looking at his watch, it was past time for lunch - and although the thought didn't fill him with any enthusiasm, George was red-hot on punctuality for meals, and he wasn't really in the mood for a row.

He made his way indoors, trying not to feel angry despite his frustration. But really, what did Dumbledore expect him to do? He still didn't know why he was here, Sirius' birthday was tomorrow, and it didn't look as though George was planning on spilling the beans at any point.

Wiping his hands, he made his way through the utility room, pausing at the entrance to the kitchen. The kitchen table was covered in bits of paper, George was sat at the table, eyes closed and snoring gently, and above the sink a radio was crooning peacefully to itself.

_'I am dejected, I am depressed,  
Yet resurrected, and sailing the crest...'_

Remus went back into the passageway, coughed loudly, and made a show of walking very noisily back into the room, giving George time to sit up and collect herself.

'You're early,' she snapped, shuffling her papers together. 'Lunch isn't ready yet.'

'Would you like me to help?' Remus said, deliberately not looking at the clock which showed him to be ten minutes late. 'I'm not a bad cook.'

George hesitated, obviously torn. 'All right,' she snapped eventually. 'You can peel the potatoes for me, I'm sure you can't make too much of a mess out of that. Though looking at the state of my flower beds, I could be mistaken.'

Remus, who had perfected the art of not rising to petty insults many years ago, simply smiled and dug the potato peeler out of the cutlery drawer. He started peeling potatoes, watching George rise creakily from the table out of the corner of his eye, and listening with half an ear to the radio. The singer seemed somewhat confused.

_'...Such conflicting questions writhe around in my brain,  
Should I order cyanide, or order champagne...?'_

'Hah!' he muttered under his breath.

'I'm sorry?' said George. 'What was that?'

'Nothing,' he said cheerfully. 'I sneezed.'

She gave him an odd look but said no more, and Remus returned to his potatoes. 'Well, which is it?' one of the inner Remuses was asking. 'Cyanide or champagne?' He ignored the voice.

'George?' he said instead. 'Have you got anything planned for me this afternoon? Only it looks as though it might be too wet to do much gardening.' He indicated the window, through which black clouds could be seen gathering.

George snorted. 'Don't worry, there's still plenty that needs to be done around the house. Trying to get out of work, are you?'

'Not exactly.' Okay, he was, but not for the reasons she thought.

'Oh? Got something better to do, have you?'

'Yes,' he said, too tired to lie. 'It's my friend's birthday tomorrow, and I was hoping I could go and buy him a birthday present this afternoon. I can send it by owl post this afternoon, it should get there in time.'

George paused, and Remus got the distinct impression that she hadn't been expecting that answer. 'Presumably this isn't something you've just found out about,' she said eventually. 'Why didn't you do it before today?'

_Because three weeks ago one of my best friends told me he loved me when he thought I was asleep, I've been avoiding the issue ever since, and, quite frankly, his bloody birthday present was the last thing on my mind..._

Remus shrugged. 'I just haven't had time.' _Liar_, muttered an inner Remus.

Once again, George looked torn. He tried to guess what was going on in her head; getting rid of him would probably be something of a relief, for if she was as ill as he suspected she was, she'd most likely be grateful for a chance to have a lie-down; on the other hand, letting him go would be like letting him win, and that was unthinkable.

Eventually she spoke. 'All right. I don't need you this afternoon. Where will you go? Diagon Alley?'

'Probably not,' he said, unsure if he was relieved or disappointed she was letting him go. 'I was thinking I might try the shops around here.'

George started laughing loudly, a laugh that quickly turned into a coughing fit; Remus grew slightly concerned as she seemed unable to stop.

'Are you all right?'

'I'm fine,' she snapped, breathing deeply and calming down. 'Have you seen the shops around here? You might be better off going to the middle of a field and waiting for a present to drop out of the sky.'

Remus smiled. 'Come on, they can't be that bad.'

'Hmm.' She looked at him shrewdly. 'Why don't you want to go to Diagon Alley?'

'I don't want to Apparate, and you're not connected to the Floo,' he lied quickly. In truth, there were several reasons why he didn't want to go, most of them shopkeepers who had employed him at one time or another, only to let him go when they found out his secret, the most recent being less than two weeks ago. There was also the possibility, however slim, that he might run into Sirius (or James, or Lily, or Peter...) who would demand to know how it was Remus could take time off from his 'super secret mission' to go shopping, but couldn't make it to Sirius' birthday dinner. That was a question he really didn't want to deal with.

'Well,' said George, almost cheerfully, 'you can try the High Street, but don't say I didn't warn you.'

Remus returned to his potatoes. 'Good. I'll go after lunch, then.' He distinctly heard another 'Hmm...' behind him, but he ignored it, turning his attention back to the radio.

_'I knew the odds were against me before,  
I had no flair for flaming desire.  
But since the Gods gave me you to adore,  
I may lose, but I refuse to fight the fire...'_

He finally snapped over lunch, chewing a rubbery omelette (and what kind of person ate fried potatoes with omelettes anyway?). He was tired, sick of bad food, and he had a real life that he wanted to get back to. _Surely_ Dumbledore hadn't sent him here to garden for a bitter old woman?

'Can I ask you a question, George?' he said, keeping his voice light and smiling gently at her. 

She looked at him with deep suspicion. 'What kind of question?'

'Why am I here?' he asked simply. 'What is it Dumbledore wants me to do?' 

She raised an eyebrow at him. 'You haven't worked it out yet? Well, it's very simple. I'm dying.'

He looked sharply at her, opening his mouth to say something like 'don't be ridiculous', but closed it again. She gave her tight-lipped smile again. 'You'd most likely guessed as much. My heart, you see. Maybe if I was a 'normal' human being' - and there was still some bitterness in the words - 'I'd have years left in me. But I'm not. I won't last through next month's transformation, I barely survived this last one.'

Feeling awkward, Remus wasn't exactly sure what to say. His first instinct was to ask what any of this had to do with him, but it wasn't exactly the most polite or sympathetic response. She seemed to guess his predicament though, and grinned.

'Don't worry, I've had a good run, years longer than most of _'our kind'_.' She snorted. 'As for your role in all of this...well, I wouldn't dare to second guess the great Albus Dumbledore, but you're probably here to get what you can out of me.'

'I don't understand.'

She sighed. 'I don't have any living relatives, and I sure as hell don't have any close friends. I've no idea what will happen to everything I own when I'm dead, as I don't have a will, but you know what? I really don't give a toss, either. But I could make a will leaving everything to the Order, so Dumbledore could have a proper Headquarters to plan his little war in, and money to keep it going.'

'But it isn't just his war,' said Remus, suddenly feeling angry. 'Voldemort affects all of us, wizard, Muggle and werewolf alike, you must see that...'

She waved a hand, cutting him off. 'I know all this. You think I don't know? But I'm going to die before anything has the chance to affect me. Wizards have shunned me all my life, why should I care about them now? Why should I get involved?'

There was a pause; then Remus suddenly asked, 'Why did you write the book?'

Whatever she had expected, it wasn't that. She paused and stared at him. 'What do you mean?'

'Why did you write the book? You don't need the money, so why did you do it if you don't care about anyone else?'

For the first time since he had met her, George looked as though she had absolutely no idea what to say next. She opened and shut her mouth a couple of times, before her expression became closed, as if a shutter had come down.

'Because you never gave up hope,' he said to her, hoping that he wouldn't get his head bitten off for the words. 'Because you wanted to leave something behind you for me and others like us...and because you still hoped that one day we will be accepted for what we are.'

She let out a noise that was halfway between a grunt and a snort. 'You've got quite the imagination, haven't you?' she said, looking at him carefully. 'Maybe you should be the one writing books.'

He said nothing, just smiled at her, waiting.

Eventually, she spoke again. 'And what, exactly, is the point of all this?'

He shrugged. 'No point. I think I just understand you a little better now, that's all.'

'Well, you just keep telling yourself that, dear,' she said sarcastically. She got up from her seat and carried her plate over to the sink, clearly indicating that the conversation was over.

'I'll stay three more days,' Remus said, watching her carefully. _Which just takes me past Sirius' birthday,_ he added to himself, wanting to avoid seeing everybody until he had got things sorted out in his head.

She turned around and stared at him. 'I'm sorry?'

'I'll stay three more days,' he said, getting up from his own seat and moving to put his plate with the washing up. 'That should give me time to help you put the house and the garden in order...I assume that's what I've been doing? Then I'm going home. If Dumbledore really sent me here to 'get what I can out of you', I've done a pretty poor job and there's really not much point in me staying around here any more, is there?'

She stared at him with deep suspicion. 'You're not going to try to make me leave everything to the Order?'

'Nope.' He smiled cheerfully at her. 'So, a cup of tea before I head to the High Street, I think. Would you like one?'

He moved to put the kettle on, smiling to himself as he heard her 'Hmph' behind him.

Three hours later, Remus was decidedly less cheerful, and was just about ready to give up and head to Diagon Alley. Okay, he hadn't had very high expectations after George's dire predictions, but this was ridiculous. He was aware that a large part of the problem was his extreme reluctance to think about...well, you know...and buying a birthday present for someone you're trying not to think about is a lot harder than it sounds.

The rain was really getting to him now. The borrowed Muggle coat was fairly waterproof, but the hood seemed designed to let as much water as possible trickle down his back. Just as he was seriously considering admitting defeat, the weather made up its own mind and decided to hail. Within a few minutes, hailstones as large as Snitches were thundering down, and fearing for his life, Remus ducked into the nearest shop doorway.

Pulling back his hood, he warily looked around to see what kind of shop he had ended up in. The walls were covered in racks which seemed to be full of large, square, flat objects; another long rack filled the centre of the room. Remus walked over and picked up one of the objects, which proclaimed 'Original Broadway Cast Recording of _Oklahoma!_' on the front of it, and a Muggle Studies lesson from fourth year came slowly back to him. This must be a record shop. He looked around again, found the shop was completely deserted, and started wandering idly down the aisles, pulling out records at random. Now that he remembered, didn't James and Lily get given a record player at their wedding?

Remembering something that Lily had mentioned more than once, he wandered over to the 'B's and started flicking through the Beatles records...then he stopped and stared.

Five minutes later, the shop owner came through from the back room to find a young man staring at a record as though not seeing it at all. After a couple more minutes had passed, the owner cleared his throat.

'Excuse me, sir? Are you planning on buying that, or just looking at it all day?'

Remus jumped, looked down at the record as if he had only just noticed it was there, and then looked up again.

'Yes...' he said slowly, and then he smiled. 'Yes, I think I will.'

He arrived back to the house with the rain unable to dampen his spirits, and a smile that he couldn't really wipe off his face. The woman in the General Wizards' Store on the High Street had given him a very funny look when he had handed over the package to post, but the act of sending it had lifted a great weight off his shoulders. He whistled slightly as he entered the house, and then stopped, guiltily, as he recognised the tune.

George was waiting for him in the kitchen.

'I'm going to make a new will,' she said, without preamble.

He raised an eyebrow at her, but tried to show no sign of surprise. 'Really?'

'It's nothing to do with you.' She glared at him, as if defying him to contradict her. 'I would have done it anyway. But...you were right.'

He managed to keep his expression serious, knowing how much it was probably costing her to admit it.

'I do still care,' she went on, smiling slightly. 'And I supppose I should do my bit to help, or else I'm no better than they are.'

He grinned. 'You're a wonderful human being, George.' He leaned over, kissed her cheek; then, ignoring the dumbfounded expression on her face, he neatly sidestepped around her and whistled as he headed out to the garden.

It wasn't such a bad day, after all.

Four days later, Remus arrived home laden with tins full of biscuits and cakes that George had refused to let him leave without (which he planned to throw in the bin at the first opportunity), and a vague feeling of apprehension. Apparating into the hall, he first dumped the food in the kitchen and his bag in his bedroom, before calling for Sirius. He didn't really expect an answer, and he didn't get one; the flat had had an empty feel about it as soon as he arrived.

Deciding that the sensible thing to do would be to go straight to Godric's Hollow to find Sirius, he walked into the kitchen and made himself a cup of tea. He followed this with a sandwich, then an apple, then finally one of George's rock cakes and another cup of tea. He then went and unpacked, taking a great deal of care over folding each item of clothing. Eventually, he could think of no more delaying tactics, and, with a sigh, prepared to Apparate.

He arrived on the Potters' front porch, and was surprised to find the house somewhat dark. He tapped the front door with his wand, and it swung gently open. Moving inside, he called 'hello' softly, and Lily came scurrying into the hall, followed by her husband.

'Remus!' She gave him a tight hug and smiled at him. 'How did it go? Or is it top secret?' He started to tell her, but she interrupted him, waving a hand.

'Never mind all that, you can tell us later. He's in the living room.' Remus stared at her, disbelieving. Was it that obvious? Did they both know? He looked at James, who was looking faintly puzzled.

'Lily and I are going to the pub, we'll be back in a couple of hours.' He paused. 'Look...I don't really know what's going on, no one ever tells me anything' - he glared at Lily - 'but I'd quite like my old best friend back, so sort it out, will you?'

'Come on,' said Lily, grabbing his hand. 'We'll see you later, Remus. And good luck.' She winked at him.

'But...' Before Remus could raise any sort of objection, or indeed form any sort of coherent sentence, they had both left, banging the front door behind them. He stared at the door for a few minutes, before gathering his courage, taking a deep breath and walking into the living room.

Blinking hard to adjust to the relative brightness of the room after the dim hall, he found Sirius sat on the floor, staring at something in his hand. Sirius raised his head at hearing the sound of the door closing, and for a moment he and Remus just stared at each other. Remus was the first to break eye contact.

'Happy birthday,' he told a lamp just behind Sirius' left shoulder. 'Did you...how was it?'

'My birthday?' said Sirius, standing up and walking slowly towards Remus. 'Not bad. I got some good presents. And some puzzling ones.'

'Puzzling ones?' Remus asked, taking a step backwards.

Sirius stopped walking and held up the object in his hands. It was a 12-inch record with a colourful cover and the words '_God Only Knows_' and 'The Beach Boys' on the front, and Remus' heart almost stopped on seeing it. He wished he could read the expression on Sirius' face, but for a man who was usually as readable as a large print book, he was adopting a remarkably good poker face.

'You were listening, weren't you,' said Sirius.

'I didn't mean to. It was sort of an accident.'

Sirius nodded. 'Liar,' he said matter-of-factly. 'Eavesdropping like that's going to get you into trouble one day.'

'Clearly.' There was another long pause, and Remus wished desperately that Sirius would give him some sign of what was going on in his head.

'One of us is going to have to say something at some point,' he said eventually, when the silence had become too much to bear.

'I think you just did,' said Sirius, 'but I take your meaning. So...' He waved the record. 'Are you going to tell me what this means?'

Remus paused, still trying to read his expression. Slowly, he asked, 'What do you think it means?'

'Oh no,' said Sirius firmly, 'we're not playing that game. You bought the record, you tell me what it means.'

Remus opened his mouth, closed it, thought for a moment, and then opened it again, but not to answer the question.

'Why didn't you tell me?' he asked instead. Sirius gaped at him.

'I would have thought that was obvious,' he said, sounding surprised.

Remus shrugged. 'I'm slow. Humour me.'

'Well,' he said slowly, 'everything, really. You're one of my best friends, and I didn't want to do anything to jeopardise that. Plus the usual things - you know, embarrassment, fear of humiliation... Basically, I knew I had no chance, and I suppose I was hoping I'd get over it without you ever having to find out.'

_Well, here goes nothing_, Remus thought to himself, and threw caution to the wind. 'Why did you think you had no chance?'

Sirius looked thunderstruck. 'Because...well, you like girls, don't you? And...' He looked embarrassed. 'You know, the Sock Incident.' You could almost _hear_ the capital letters slotting into place.

'The what?' said Remus, genuinely puzzled.

'The Sock Incident!' Sirius looked hurt. 'You really don't remember it, do you? In fifth year?'

'Sirius, I can safely say that I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about.'

He sighed again, looking hesitant. 'One afternoon in fifth year, I was alone in the dormitory, reading a letter that I had just got from...from home. You came in and found me...well...' He paused, looking very reluctant to finish the sentence.

'Crying,' Remus supplied.

'You do remember!' said Sirius, looking shocked.

'Padfoot, that was the afternoon I had my first kiss, and not just from anyone, but from a boy and one of my closest friends. How in the _hell_ did you think I'd forget that? Every detail is indelibly printed on my memory.'

'But...you've never mentioned it since. Not once.'

'Neither have you,' Remus pointed out. 'And what, exactly, does it have to do with socks?'

Sirius waved his hands in the air. 'Because I told you that the reason I had been crying was because I had run out of clean socks. Yes, it was a stupid excuse,' he added, 'but it was the best I could do on the spot. Anyway, you can't have believed me, but you didn't press me. You didn't try to make me tell you what was really wrong. Instead, you just went over to your chest of drawers, took out a pair of socks, and you said I could have them...'

Remus realised his mouth was open and closed it quickly, not wanting to interrupt the flow of words.

'...And I remember that I was just rambling on,' Sirius continued, seemingly unaware that he was doing the same thing again, 'and you just let me ramble, you didn't say anything, just let me talk. And then, you sat down next to me on the bed, and you said...'

Remus, realising that Sirius was going to keep talking forever if unchecked, took a deep breath and decided to stop his friend rambling the same way he had all those years ago. He moved forward, took hold of Sirius' face, and gently kissed his lips.

The kiss was brief, barely lasting a moment, but it had the desired effect. Sirius stopped talking and just stared, mouth hanging open. Remus was severely tempted to laugh, but something told him that it would be a bad idea. Instead he just waited.

After a moment, Sirius appeared to wake up, and a smile appeared on his face. 'Well,' he said slowly, 'I wasn't expecting it _this_ time either.'

Remus smiled back. 'You'd think that after five years, you would have learnt not to be quite so shocked when people kiss you.' His smile widened. 'I can't believe you have a name for it. The 'Sock Incident'?'

Sirius shrugged, looking embarrassed. 'I had to call it something,' he said simply. 'I always associated it with socks.'

'Wait...' said Remus, a memory flashing into his head. Understanding dawned. 'Is _that_ what all that stuff in your best man's speech was about? It was about me?'

Sirius began to laugh. He moved over to the sofa, sank down onto it, and pressed his hands over his face. 'Of course it was about you,' he said, his voice muffled. He brought his hands down again and looked up at Remus, who had stayed where he was, not moving. 'It's always bloody well about you.'

'Now, I find that hard to believe,' said Remus lightly, walking over and sitting on a chair so that he was facing Sirius. They held each others' eyes for a moment, before Sirius frowned and dropped his gaze.

'But...you like girls,' he said eventually, looking like someone trying to come to terms with a new concept. 'Don't you?'

Remus' mouth twisted as he tried not to laugh. Remembering all the times he had just sat and observed Sirius; the way he sat, the way his hair fell over one eye, the way he would chew the corner of his mouth as he sat staring at Transfiguration textbooks, the way he would smile when thinking of some new mischief... Had he really been that oblivious? 

_'I like girls. And you,'_ Remus nearly said, but chose instead to ask, 'Padfoot, how many times have you seen me express interest in anyone, boy or girl?'

'Okay, not many. But I always thought that was just because of...' Sirius waved one hand in the air, trying to express himself. The words 'the werewolf thing' remained unspoken, however, and he went on. 'Are you trying to tell me...what _are_ you trying to tell me?'

Remus smiled. 'What do you think I'm trying to tell you? Do you think I'm in the habit of going around kissing my best friends?' he said with amusement.

'But...' Sirius still looked confused. 'But you told me it meant nothing, that we should forget it, and pretend it had never happened...'

'Sirius...'

'Why? If it meant something to you, because Merlin knows it meant something to _me_, then why the hell didn't you say anything?'

Remus opened his mouth to speak, but Sirius was building up a full head of steam now.

'You let me think that you didn't care, that you were disgusted by the whole thing...why didn't you tell me? _Why_?'

'Because I'm not like you, Sirius!' he burst out, finally getting a word in edgeways. 'I can't...wear my heart on my sleeve the way that you do. I told you it was a mistake because I was _scared_. Scared of admitting what I felt...who I was.'

'You think it's easy for me?' said Sirius, looking indignant.

'Yes. I do. You never seem to have any problems letting everyone know how you feel. But it's difficult for me...I suppose I just get so used to keeping things to myself that I can't get out of the habit.'

'But it's _me_. You could tell me.'

'Think about it, Padfoot,' Remus said dryly. 'You were the last person I could tell. Besides, I might have done eventually - I had to sort of work up to it - but two days later, you announced that you were in love with Alistair.'

Sirius gave a rueful smile. 'I was trying to make you jealous.' Remus stared at him, incredulous - then he began to laugh. For some reason, the idea struck him as hysterically funny, and he curled up in his armchair, and laughed and laughed. Sirius looked at him as though he had cracked. 'I'm not saying that I didn't genuinely like him,' he added, 'but I probably wouldn't have told you all if I wasn't looking for a reaction. I gather it didn't work?'

'No, it worked,' said Remus, pulling himself together. 'It drove me nuts.' They looked at each other for a moment, but this time, Remus was the first to break eye contact. 'I almost told you how I felt,' he admitted, 'but then...'

'But then, what?'

'Snape,' Remus said simply.

Sirius exhaled and rubbed his hand across his face. 'I'm going to be saying sorry for that the rest of my life, aren't I?'

'It's not a question of saying sorry. Do you have any idea...no, never mind, you probably don't. But I nearly killed another human being, Padfoot - and don't even think of saying it wouldn't have been me,' he added, seeing Sirius open his mouth. 'It doesn't make any difference in the eyes of the Ministry, and it doesn't make any difference to me. I understand why you did it, and I've forgiven you...but I can't forget. Please don't ask me to forget.'

'I really blew my chances after that.' It was a statement, not a question.

Remus had to laugh at that. 'Just slightly. If I couldn't trust you to keep my secret, how could I trust you not to break my heart? It took me a long time before I could trust you again. To tell the truth,' he added, seeing Sirius' look of hope, 'I'm still not sure I trust you fully now.'

'I suppose I deserve that. I'll just have to keep working at it, then, won't I?' There was another lengthy pause. 'So what happens now?' Sirius finally ventured. 'Do we...does this have any kind of chance?'

Remus simply looked at him; at the features he knew off by heart, at the familiar grey eyes, at the hair that could seriously do with a trim, at the mouth that seemed designed to grin impishly; but most of all, he looked at the expression on the familiar face, a sort of mingled hope and fear. He knew what the answer would be. In a way, he couldn't give any other answer. There was no way he could disappoint the face in front of him, he never could. But there was no point in letting him win too easily.

He sighed. 'I don't know. I don't know if I can trust you.'

'You can, I promise.'

'And you've got to promise not to mother me, to treat me like a kid and make me eat my vegetables.'

'Hand on my heart, I promise I will treat you like a grownup and an equal.'

'And things can never go back to the way they were, you know. Our friendship's probably destroyed forever now.'

Sirius nodded solemnly.

'So...' said Remus. 'I've got nothing to lose, really, have I?' He watched Sirius frowning for a moment, before smiling gently. 'That was a 'yes', by the way.'

Sirius' face erupted in an ear-splitting grin and he leapt up from the sofa. He hesitated, though, and said doubtfully, 'Are you sure?'

Remus wasn't, but he wasn't going to tell Sirius that. Instead, he kept his face carefully composed as he also stood up and moved closer. He shrugged. 'Pretty sure. Are you?'

Sirius' grin widened. 'Never been surer of anything.'

Suddenly aware of just how close they were standing, Remus swallowed, and waited for Sirius to close the gap. Closing his eyes, he suddenly felt hands on his neck and warm lips meeting his own. Gentle at first, breath tickling his top lip; and then harder, hungrier, mouths opening as if searching for a way to get even closer...

As if from nowhere, a voice appeared at the back of his mind. _He'll only hurt you, you know_, said one of the inner Remuses, disapproving.

'I know,' he replied silently.

_He'll break your heart_.

'Very possibly.'

_So why are you doing this_?

Remus mentally shrugged, and gave himself up to the kiss. 'God only knows.'


End file.
